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2  8 1937 


THE  GLIMPSES 
OF  THE  MOON 


By  EDITH  WHARTON 

THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

THE  AGE  OF  INNOCENCE 

SUMMER 

THE  REEF 

THE  MARNE 

FRENCH  WAYS  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

T231C 


THE 

GLIMPSES  OF 
THE  MOON 

BY 

EDITH  WHARTON 

AUTHOR  OF  "THE  AGE  OF  INNOCENCE,"  "THE  HOUSE 
OF  MIRTH,"  "ETHAN  FROME,"  "THE  REEF,"  ETC. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
NEW  YORK  ::  LONDON  ::  MCMXXII 


COPYRIGHT,   1922,  BY 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1922,  by  The  Pictorial  Review  Company 

PRINTED   IN  THE  UNITED  STATES  OF  AMERICA 


PART  I 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF 
THE  MOON 


IT  rose  for  them — their  honey-moon — over  the 
waters  of  a  lake  so  famed  as  the  scene  of  ro 
mantic  raptures  that  they  were  rather  proud 
of  not  having  been  afraid  to  choose  it  as  the  set 
ting  of  their  own. 

"It  required  a  total  lack  of  humour,  or  as  great 
a  gift  for  it  as  ours,  to  risk  the  experiment, ' '  Susy 
Lansing  opined,  as  they  hung  over  the  inevitable 
marble  balustrade  and  watched  their  tutelary  orb 
roll  its  magic  carpet  across  the  waters  to  their 
feet. 

"Yes — or  the  loan  of  Strefford's  villa, "  her 
husband  emended,  glancing  upward  through  the 
branches  at  a  long  low  patch  of  paleness  to  which 
the  moonlight  was  beginning  to  give  the  form  of  a 
white  house-front. 

"Oh,  come — when  we'd  five  to  choose  from.  At 
least  if  you  count  the  Chicago  flat." 

"So  we  had — you  wonder ! ' '  He  laid  his  hand 
on  hers,  and  his  touch  renewed  the  sense  of  mar 
velling  exultation  which  the  deliberate  survey  of 
their  adventure  always  roused  in  her.  ...  It 
was  characteristic  that  she  merely  added,  in  her 

i 


2          THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

steady  laughing  tone : ' '  Or,  not  counting  the  flat — 
for  I  hate  to  brag — just  consider  the  others :  Vio 
let  Melrose's  place  at  Versailles,  your  aunt's  villa 
at  Monte  Carlo — and  a  moor!" 

She  was  conscious  of  throwing  in  the  moor  ten 
tatively,  and  yet  with  a  somewhat  exaggerated  em 
phasis,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  he  shouldn't  accuse 
her  of  slurring  it  over.  But  he  seemed  to  have 
no  desire  to  do  so.  "Poor  old  Fred!"  he  merely 
remarked ;  and  she  breathed  out  carelessly :  ' '  Oh, 
well—" 

His  hand  still  lay  on  hers,  and  for  a  long  inter 
val,  while  they  stood  silent  in  the  enveloping  love 
liness  of  the  night,  she  was  aware  only  of  the 
warm  current  running  from  palm  to  palm,  as  the 
moonlight  below  them  drew  its  line  of  magic  from 
shore  to  shore. 

Nick  Lansing  spoke  at  last.  "Versailles  in  May 
would  have  been  impossible :  all  our  Paris  crowd 
would  have  run  us  down  within  twenty-four  hours. 
And  Monte  Carlo  is  ruled  out  because  it's  exactly 
the  kind  of  place  everybody  expected  us  to  go.  So 
— with  all  respect  to  you — it  wasn't  much  of  a 
mental  strain  to  decide  on  Como." 

His  wife  instantly  challenged  this  belittling  of 
her  capacity.  * '  It  took  a  good  deal  of  argument  to 
convince  you  that  we  could  face  the  ridicule  of 
Como!" 

"Well,  I  should  have  preferred  something  in  a 
lower  key ;  at  least  I  thought  I  should  till  we  got 
here.  Now  I  see  that  this  place  is  idiotic  unless 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON          3 

one  is  perfectly  happy ;  and  that  then  it's — as  good 
as  any  other." 

She  sighed  out  a  blissful  assent.  "And  I  must 
say  that  Streffy  has  done  things  to  a  turn.  Even 
the  cigars — who  do  you  suppose  gave  him  those 
cigars?"  She  added  thoughtfully:  "You'll  miss 
them  when  we  have  to  go." 

"Oh,  I  say,  don't  let's  talk  to-night  about  going. 
Aren't  we  outside  of  time  and  space  .  .  .  f 
Smell  that  guinea-a-bottle  stuff  over  there:  what 
is  it?  Stephanotis?" 

"Y-yes.  ...  I  suppose  so.  Or  gardenias.  .  .  . 
Oh,  the  fire-flies!  Look  .  .  .  there,  against  that 
splash  of  moonlight  on  the  water.  Apples  of 
silver  in  a  net-work  of  gold.  ..."  They  leaned 
together,  one  flesh  from  shoulder  to  finger-tips, 
their  eyes  held  by  the  snared  glitter  of  the  ripples. 

"I  could  bear,"  Lansing  remarked,  "even  a 
nightingale  at  this  moment.  ..." 

A  faint  gurgle  shook  the  magnolias  behind  them, 
and  a  long  liquid  whisper  answered  it  from  the 
thicket  of  laurel  above  their  heads. 

"It's  a  little  late  in  the  year  for  them-  they're 
ending  just  as  we  begin." 

Susy  laughed.  ' '  I  hope  when  our  turn  comes  we 
shall  say  good-bye  to  each  other  as  sweetly." 

It  was  in  her  husband's  mind  to  answer: 
"They're  not  saying  good-bye,  but  only  settling 
down  to  family  cares."  But  as  this  did  not  hap 
pen  to  be  in  his  plan,  or  in  Susy's,  he  merely 
echoed  her  laugh  and  pressed  her  closer. 


4          THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

The  spring  night  drew  them  into  its  deepening 
embrace.  The  ripples  of  the  lake  had  gradually 
widened  and  faded  into  a  silken  smoothness,  and 
high  above  the  mountains  the  moon  was  turning 
from  gold  to  white  in  a  sky  powdered  with  vanish 
ing  stars.  Across  the  lake  the  lights  of  a  little 
town  went  out,  one  after  another,  and  the  distant 
shore  became  a  floating  blackness.  A  breeze  that 
rose  and  sank  brushed  their  faces  with  the  scents 
of  the  garden;  once  it  blew  out  over  the  water  a 
great  white  moth  like  a  drifting  magnolia  petal. 
The  nightingales  had  paused  and  the  trickle  of  the 
fountain  behind  the  house  grew  suddenly  insistent. 

When  Susy  spoke  it  was  in  a  voice  languid  with 
visions.  "I  have  been  thinking,"  she  said,  "that 
we  ought  to  be  able  to  make  it  last  at  least  a  year 
longer." 

Her  husband  received  the  remark  without  any 
sign  of  surprise  or  disapprobation;  his  answer 
showed  that  he  not  only  understood  her,  but  had 
been  inwardly  following  the  same  train  of  thought. 

"You  mean,"  he  enquired  after  a  pause,  "with 
out  counting  your  grandmother's  pearls!" 

"Yes — without  the  pearls." 

He  pondered  a  while,  and  then  rejoined  in  a 
tender  whisper:  "Tell  me  again  just  how." 

"Let's  sit  down,  then.  No,  I  like  the  cushions 
best." 

He  stretched  himself  in  a  long  willow  chair, 
and  she  curled  up  on  a  heap  of  boat-cushions  and 
leaned  her  head  against  his  knee.  Just  above  her, 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON          5 

when  she  lifted  her  lids,  she  saw  bits  of  moon- 
flooded  sky  incrusted  like  silver  in  a  sharp  black 
patterning  of  plane-boughs.  All  about  them 
breathed  of  peace  and  beauty  and  stability,  and 
her  happiness  was  so  acute  that  it  was  almost  a 
relief  to  remember  the  stormy  background  of  bills 
and  borrowing  against  which  its  frail  structure 
had  been  reared.  " People  with  a  balance  can't  be 
as  happy  as  all  this,"  Susy  mused,  letting  the 
moonlight  filter  through  her  lazy  lashes. 

People  with  a  balance  had  always  been  Susy 
Branch's  bugbear;  they  were  still,  and  more  dan 
gerously,  to  be  Susy  Lansing 's.  She  detested  them, 
detested  them  doubly,  as  the  natural  enemies  of 
mankind  and  as  the  people  one  always  had  to  put 
one's  self  out  for.  The  greater  part  of  her  life 
having  been  passed  among  them,  she  knew  nearly 
all  that  there  was  to  know  about  them,  and  judged 
them  with  the  contemptuous  lucidity  of  nearly 
twenty  years  of  dependence.  But  at  the  present 
moment  her  animosity  was  diminished  not  only  by 
the  softening  effect  of  love  but  by  the  fact  that 
she  had  got  out  of  those  very  people  more — yes, 
ever  so  much  more — than  she  and  Nick,  in  their 
hours  of  most  reckless  planning,  had  ever  dared 
to  hope  for. 

"After  all,  we  owe  them  this!11  she  mused. 

Her  husband,  lost  in  the  drowsy  beatitude  of 
the  hour,  had  not  repeated  his  question;  but  she 
was  still  on  the  trail  of  the  thought  he  had  started. 
A  year — yes,  she  was  sure  now  that  with  a  little 


6          THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

management  they  could  have  a  whole  year  of  it! 
"It"  was  their  marriage,  their  being  together, 
and  away  from  bores  and  bothers,  in  a  comrade 
ship  of  which  both  of  them  had  long  ago  guessed 
the  immediate  pleasure,  but  she  at  least  had  never 
imagined  the  deeper  harmony. 

It  was  at  one  of  their  earliest  meetings — at  one 
of  the  heterogeneous  dinners  that  the  Fred  Gil- 
lows  tried  to  think  "literary" — that  the  young 
man  who  chanced  to  sit  next  to  her,  and  of  whom 
it  was  vaguely  rumoured  that  he  had  "written," 
had  presented  himself  to  her  imagination  as  the 
sort  of  luxury  to  which  Susy  Branch,  heiress, 
might  conceivably  have  treated  herself  as  a  crown 
ing  folly.  Susy  Branch,  pauper,  was  fond  of  pic 
turing  how  this  fancied  double  would  employ  her 
millions:  it  was  one  of  her  chief  grievances 
against  her  rich  friends  that  they  disposed  of 
theirs  so  unimaginatively. 

"I'd  rather  have  a  husband  like  that  than 
a  steam-yacht ! ' '  she  had  thought  at  the  end  of  her 
talk  with  the  young  man  who  had  written,  and  as 
to  whom  it  had  at  once  been  clear  to  her  that  noth 
ing  his  pen  had  produced,  or  might  hereafter  set 
down,  would  put  him  in  a  position  to  offer  his  wife 
anything  more  costly  than  a  row-boat. 

"His  wife — !  As  if  he  could  ever  have  one! 
For  he's  not  the  kind  to  marry  for  a  yacht 
either. ' '  In  spite  of  her  past,  Susy  had  preserved 
enough  inner  independence  to  detect  the  latent 
signs  of  it  in  others,  and  also  to  ascribe  it  impul- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON          7 

sively  to  those  of  the  opposite  sex  who  happened 
to  interest  her.  She  had  a  natural  contempt  for 
people  who  gloried  in  what  they  need  only  have 
endured.  She  herself  meant  eventually  to  marry, 
because  one  couldn't  forever  hang  on  to  rich 
people;  but  she  was  going  to  wait  till  she  found 
some  one  who  combined  the  maximum  of  wealth 
with  at  least  a  minimum  of  companionableness. 

She  had  at  once  perceived  young  Lansing's  case 
to  be  exactly  the  opposite:  he  was  as  poor  as  he 
could  be,  and  as  companionable  as  it  was  possible 
to  imagine.  She  therefore  decided  to  see  as  much 
of  him  as  her  hurried  and  entangled  life  permit 
ted;  and  this,  thanks  to  a  series  of  adroit  adjust 
ments,  turned  out  to  be  a  good  deal.  They  met 
frequently  all  the  rest  of  that  winter;  so  fre 
quently  that  Mrs.  Fred  Gillow  one  day  abruptly 
and  sharply  gave  Susy  to  understand  that  she  was 
"making  herself  ridiculous." 

"Ah — "  said  Susy  with  a  long  breath,  looking 
her  friend  and  patroness  straight  in  the  painted 
eyes. 

"Yes,"  cried  Ursula  Gillow  in  a  sob,  "before 
you  interfered  Nick  liked  me  awfully  .  .  .  and, 
of  course,  I  don't  want  to  reproach  you  .  .  .  but 
when  I  think.  ..." 

Susy  made  no  anwer.  How  could  she,  when  she 
thought?  The  dress  she  had  on  had  been  given 
her  by  Ursula;  Ursula's  motor  had  carried  her  to 
the  feast  from  which  they  were  both  returning. 
She  counted  on  spending  the  following  August 


8          THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

with  the  Gillows  at  Newport  .  .  .  and  the  only  al 
ternative  was  to  go  to  California  with  the  Bock- 
heimers,  whom  she  had  hitherto  refused  even  to 
dine  with. 

1 1  Of  course,  what  you  fancy  is  perfect  nonsense, 
Ursula;  and  as  to  my  interfering — "  Susy  hesi 
tated,  and  then  murmured:  "But  if  it  will  make 
you  any  happier  I'll  arrange  to  see  him 
less  often.  ..."  She  sounded  the  lowest  depths 
of  subservience  in  returning  Ursula's  tearful 
kiss.  .  .  . 

Susy  Branch  had  a  masculine  respect  for  her 
word;  and  the  next  day  she  put  on  her  most  be 
coming  hat  and  sought  out  young  Mr.  Lansing  in 
his  lodgings.  She  was  determined  to  keep  her 
promise  to  Ursula ;  but  she  meant  to  look  her  best 
when  she  did  it. 

She  knew  at  what  time  the  young  man  was  likely 
to  be  found,  for  he  was  doing  a  dreary  job  on  a 
popular  encyclopaedia  (V  to  X),  and  had  told  her 
what  hours  were  dedicated  to  the  hateful  task. 
' '  Oh,  if  only  it  were  a  novel ! ' '  she  thought  as  she 
mounted  his  dingy  stairs;  but  immediately  re 
flected  that,  if  it  were  the  kind  that  she  could  bear 
to  read,  it  probably  wouldn't  bring  him  in  much 
more  than  his  encyclopaedia.  Miss  Branch  had 
her  standards  in  literature.  .  .  . 

The  apartment  to  which  Mr.  Lansing  admitted 
her  was  a  good  deal  cleaner,  but  hardly  less  dingy, 
than  his  staircase.  Susy,  knowing  him  to  be  ad 
dicted  to  Oriental  archaeology,  had  pictured  him 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON          9 

in  a  bare  room  adorned  by  a  single  Chinese  bronze 
of  flawless  shape,  or  by  some  precious  fragment 
of  Asiatic  pottery.  But  such  redeeming  features 
were  conspicuously  absent,  and  no  attempt  had 
been  made  to  disguise  the  decent  indigence  of  the 
bed-sitting-room. 

Lansing  welcomed  his  visitor  with  every  sign 
of  pleasure,  and  with  apparent  indifference  as  to 
what  she  thought  of  his  furniture.  He  seemed  to 
be  conscious  only  of  his  luck  in  seeing  her  on  a 
day  when  they  had  not  expected  to  meet.  This 
made  Susy  all  the  sorrier  to  execute  her  promise, 
and  the  gladder  that  she  had  put  on  her  prettiest 
hat;  and  for  a  moment  or  two  she  looked  at  him 
in  silence  from  under  its  conniving  brim. 

Warm  as  their  mutual  liking  was,  Lansing  had 
never  said  a  word  of  love  to  her ;  but  this  was  no 
deterrent  to  his  visitor,  whose  habit  it  was  to 
speak  her  meaning  clearly  when  there  were  no 
reasons,  worldly  or  pecuniary,  for  its  conceal 
ment.  After  a  moment,  therefore,  she  told  him 
why  she  had  come;  it  was  a  nuisance,  of  course, 
but  he  would  understand.  Ursula  Gillow  was 
jealous,  and  they  would  have  to  give  up  seeing 
each  other. 

The  young  man's  burst  of  laughter  was  music 
to  her;  for,  after  all,  she  had  been  rather  afraid 
that  being  devoted  to  Ursula  might  be  as  much  in 
his  day's  work  as  doing  the  encyclopaedia. 

"But  I  give  you  my  word  it's  a  raving-mad 
mistake!  And  I  don't  believe  she  ever  meant  me, 


10        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

to  begin  with — "  he  protested;  but  Susy,  her 
common-sense  returning  with  her  reassurance, 
promptly  cut  short  his  denial. 

*  *  You  can  trust  Ursula  to  make  herself  clear  on 
such  occasions.  And  it  doesn't  make  any  differ 
ence  what  you  think.  All  that  matters  is  what 
she  believes." 

"Oh,  come!  I've  got  a  word  to  say  about  that 
too,  haven't  I?" 

Susy  looked  slowly  and  consideringly  about  the 
room.  There  was  nothing  in  it,  absolutely  noth 
ing,  to  show  that  he  had  ever  possessed  a  spare 
dollar — or  accepted  a  present. 

"Not  as  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  she  finally  pro 
nounced. 

"How  do  you  mean?  If  I'm  as  free  as 
air—?" 

"I'm  not." 

He  grew  thoughtful.  "Oh,  then,  of  course — . 
It  only  seems  a  little  odd,"  he  added  drily,  "that 
in  that  case,  the  protest  should  have  come  from 
Mrs.  Gillow." 

"Instead  of  coming  from  my  millionaire  bride 
groom?  Oh,  I  haven't  any;  in  that  respect  I'm 
as  free  as  you." 

"Well,  then — ?  Haven't  we  only  got  to  stay 
free?" 

Susy  drew  her  brows  together  anxiously.  It 
was  going  to  be  rather  more  difficult  than  she  had 
supposed. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        11 

"I  said  I  was  as  free  in  that  respect.  I'm  not 
going  to  marry — and  I  don't  suppose  you  are!" 

"God,  no!"  he  ejaculated  fervently. 

"But  that  doesn't  always  imply  complete  free 
dom.  .  .  ." 

He  stood  just  above  her,  leaning  his  elbow 
against  the  hideous  black  marble  arch  that  framed 
his  fireless  grate.  As  she  glanced  up  she  saw  his 
face  harden,  and  the  colour  flew  to  hers. 

"Was  that  what  you  came  to  tell  me?"  he 
asked. 

"Oh,  you  don't  understand — and  I  don't  see 
why  you  don't,  since  we've  knocked  about  so  long 
among  exactly  the  same  kind  of  people."  She 
stood  up  impulsively  and  laid  her  hand  on  his  arm. 
"I  do  wish  you'd  help  me — !" 

He  remained  motionless,  letting  the  hand  lie 
untouched. 

"Help  you  to  tell  me  that  poor  Ursula  was  a 
pretext,  but  that  there  is  someone  who — for  one 
reason  or  another — really  has  a  right  to  object  to 
your  seeing  me  too  often?" 

Susy  laughed  impatiently.  "You  talk  like  the 
hero  of  a  novel — the  kind  my  governess  used  to 
read.  In  the  first  place  I  should  never  recognize 
that  kind  of  right,  as  you  call  it — never ! ' ' 

"Then  what  kind  do  you?"  he  asked  with  a 
clearing  brow. 

"Why — the  kind  I  suppose  you  recognize  on 
the  part  of  your  publisher. ' '  This  evoked  a  hollow 


12        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

laugh  from  him.  "A  business  claim,  call  it,"  she 
pursued.  "Ursula  does  a  lot  for  me:  I  live  on 
her  for  half  the  year.  This  dress  I've  got  on  now 
is  one  she  gave  me.  Her  motor  is  going  to  take 
me  to  a  dinner  to-night.  I'm  going  to  spend  next 
summer  with  her  at  Newport.  .  .  .  If  I  don't,  I've 
got  to  go  to  California  with  the  Bockheimers — so 
good-bye. ' ' 

Suddenly  in  tears,  she  was  out  of  the  door  and 
down  his  steep  three  flights  before  he  could  stop 
her — though,  in  thinking  it  over,  she  didn't  even 
remember  if  he  had  tried  to.  She  only  recalled 
having  stood  a  long  time  on  the  corner  of  Fifth 
Avenue,  in  the  harsh  winter  radiance,  waiting  till 
a  break  in  the  torrent  of  motors  laden  with  fash 
ionable  women  should  let  her  cross,  and  saying  to 
herself:  " After  all,  I  might  have  promised  Ur 
sula  .  .  .  and  kept  on  seeing  him.  .  .  ." 

Instead  of  which,  when  Lansing  wrote  the  next 
day  entreating  a  word  with  her,  she  had  sent  back 
a  friendly  but  firm  refusal ;  and  had  managed  soon 
afterward  to  get  taken  to  Canada  for  a  fort 
night's  ski-ing,  and  then  to  Florida  for  six  weeks 
in  a  house-boat.  .  .  . 

As  she  reached  this  point  in  her  retrospect  the 
remembrance  of  Florida  called  up  a  vision  of 
moonlit  waters,  magnolia  fragrance  and  balmy 
airs ;  merging  with  the  circumambient  sweetness, 
it  laid  a  drowsy  spell  upon  her  lids.  Yes,  there 
had  been  a  bad  moment :  but  it  was  over ;  and  she 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        13 

was  here,  safe  and  blissful,  and  with  Nick;  and 
this  was  his  knee  her  head  rested  on,  and  they  had 
a  year  ahead  of  them  ...  a  whole  year.  .  .  . 
"Not  counting  the  pearls,"  she  murmured,  shut 
ting  her  eyes.  .  .  . 


n 


LANSING  threw  the  end  of  Stafford's  expen 
sive  cigar  into  the  lake,  and  bent  over  his 
wife.  Poor  child!  She  had  fallen  asleep.  .  .  . 
He  leaned  back  and  stared  up  again  at  the  silver- 
flooded  sky.  How  queer— how  inexpressibly 
queer — it  was  to  think  that  that  light  was  shed 
by  his  honey-moon!  A  year  ago,  if  anyone  had 
predicted  his  risking  such  an  adventure,  he  would 
have  replied  by  asking  to  be  locked  up  at  the  first 
symptoms.  .  .  . 

There  was  still  no  doubt  in  his  mind  that  the 
adventure  was  a  mad  one.  It  was  all  very  well 
for  Susy  to  remind  him  twenty  times  a  day  that 
they  had  pulled  it  off — and  so  why  should  he 
worry?  Even  in  the  light  of  her  far-seeing  clev 
erness,  and  of  his  own  present  bliss,  he  knew  the 
future  would  not  bear  the  examination  of  sober 
thought.  And  as  he  sat  there  in  the  summer 
moonlight,  with  her  head  on  his  knee,  he  tried  to 
recapitulate  the  successive  steps  that  had  landed 
them  on  Streffy's  lake-front. 

On  Lansing's  side,  no  doubt,  it  dated  back  to 
his  leaving  Harvard  with  the  large  resolve  not  to 
miss  anything.  There  stood  the  evergreen  Tree 
of  Life,  the  Four  Rivers  flowing  from  its  foot ;  and 
on  every  one  of  the  four  currents  he  meant  to 

14 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        15 

launch  his  little  skiff.  On  two  of  them  he  had  not 
gone  very  far,  on  the  third  he  had  nearly  stuck  in 
the  mud;  but  the  fourth  had  carried  him  to  the 
very  heart  of  wonder.  It  was  the  stream  of  his 
lively  imagination,  of  his  inexhaustible  interest  in 
every  form  of  beauty  and  strangeness  and  folly. 
On  this  stream,  sitting  in  the  stout  little  craft  of 
his  poverty,  his  insignificance  and  his  independ 
ence,  he  had  made  some  notable  voyages.  .  .  . 
And  so,  when  Susy  Branch,  whom  he  had  sought 
out  through  a  New  York  season  as  the  prettiest 
and  most  amusing  girl  in  sight,  had  surprised 
him  with  the  contradictory  revelation  of  her 
modern  sense  of  expediency  and  her  old-fashioned 
standard  of  good  faith,  he  had  felt  an  irresistible 
desire  to  put  off  on  one  more  cruise  into  the  un 
known. 

It  was  of  the  essence  of  the  adventure  that, 
after  her  one  brief  visit  to  his  lodgings,  he  should 
have  kept  his  promise  and  not  tried  to  see  her 
again.  Even  if  her  straightforwardness  had  not 
roused  his  emulation,  his  understanding  of  her 
difficulties  would  have  moved  his  pity.  He  knew 
on  how  frail  a  thread  the  popularity  of  the  pen 
niless  hangs,  and  how  miserably  a  girl  like  Susy 
was  the  sport  of  other  people 's  moods  and  whims. 
It  was  a  part  of  his  difficulty  and  of  hers  that  to 
get  what  they  liked  they  so  often  had  to  do  what 
they  disliked.  But  the  keeping  of  his  promise  was 
a  greater  bore  than  he  had  expected.  Susy 
Branch  had  become  a  delightful  habit  in  a  life 


16        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

where  most  of  the  fixed  things  were  dull,  and  her 
disappearance  had  made  it  suddenly  clear  to  him 
that  his  resources  were  growing  more  and  more 
limited.    Much  that  had  once  amused  him  hugely 
now  amused  him  less,  or  not  at  all:  a  good  part 
of  his  world  of  wonder  had  shrunk  to  a  village 
peep-show.    And  the  things  which  had  kept  their 
stimulating  power — distant  journeys,  the  enjoy 
ment  of  art,  the  contact  with  new  scenes  and 
strange  societies — were  becoming  less  and  less 
attainable.    Lansing  had  never  had  more  than  a 
pittance ;  he  had  spent  rather  too  much  of  it  in  his 
first  plunge  into  life,  and  the  best  he  could  look 
forward  to  was  a  middle-age  of  poorly-paid  hack 
work,  mitigated  by  brief  and  frugal  holidays.    He 
knew  that  he  was  more  intelligent  than  the  aver 
age,  but  he  had  long  since  concluded  that  his 
talents  were  not  marketable.    Of  the  thin  volume 
of    sonnets    which    a    friendly    publisher    had 
launched  for  him,  just  seventy  copies  had  been 
sold;  and  though  his  essay  on  "Chinese  Influ 
ences  in  Greek  Art"  had  created  a  passing  stir, 
it  had  resulted  in  controversial  correspondence 
and  dinner  invitations  rather  than  in  more  sub 
stantial  benefits.    There  seemed,  in  short,  no  pros 
pect  of  his  ever  earning  money,  and  his  restricted 
future  made  him  attach  an  increasing  value  to  the 
kind  of  friendship  that  Susy  Branch  had  given 
him.    Apart  from  the  pleasure  of  looking  at  her 
and  listening  to  her — of  enjoying  in  her  what 
others  less  discriminatingly  but  as  liberally  ap- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        17 

predated — he  had  the  sense,  between  himself  and 
her,  of  a  kind  of  free-masonry  of  precocious  tol 
erance  and  irony.  They  had  both,  in  early  youth, 
taken  the  measure  of  the  world  they  happened  to 
live  in :  they  knew  just  what  it  was  worth  to  them 
and  for  what  reasons,  and  the  community  of  these 
reasons  lent  to  their  intimacy  its  last  exquisite 
touch.  And  now,  because  of  some  jealous  whim 
of  a  dissatisfied  fool  of  a  woman,  as  to  whom  he 
felt  himself  no  more  to  blame  than  any  young 
man  who  has  paid  for  good  dinners  by  good 
manners,  he  was  to  be  deprived  of  the  one  com 
plete  companionship  he  had  ever  known.  .  .  . 

His  thoughts  travelled  on.  He  recalled  the  long 
dull  spring  in  New  York  after  his  break  with 
Susy,  the  weary  grind  on  his  last  articles,  his  list 
less  speculations  as  to  the  cheapest  and  least  bor 
ing  way  of  disposing  of  the  summer ;  and  then  the 
amazing  luck  of  going,  reluctantly  and  at  the  last 
minute,  to  spend  a  Sunday  with  the  poor  Nat 
Fulmers,  in  the  wilds  of  New  Hampshire,  and  of 
finding  Susy  there — Susy,  whom  he  had  never 
even  suspected  of  knowing  anybody  in  the  Ful 
mers'  set! 

She  had  behaved  perfectly — and  so  had  he — 
but  they  were  obviously  much  too  glad  to  see  each 
other.  And  then  it  was  unsettling  to  be  with  her 
in  such  a  house  as  the  Fulmers',  away  from  the 
large  setting  of  luxury  they  were  both  used  to, 
in  the  cramped  cottage  where  their  host  had  his 
studio  in  the  verandah,  their  hostess  practised  her 


18        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

violin  in  the  dining-room,  and  five  ubiquitous  chil 
dren  sprawled  and  shouted  and  blew  trumpets  and 
put  tadpoles  in  the  water-jugs,  and  the  mid-day 
dinner  was  two  hours  late — and  proportionately 
bad — because  the  Italian  cook  was  posing  for 
Fulmer. 

Lansing's  first  thought  had  been  that  meeting 
Susy  in  such  circumstances  would  be  the  quickest 
way  to  cure  them  both  of  their  regrets.  The  case 
of  the  Fulmers  was  an  awful  object-lesson  in  what 
happened  to  young  people  who  lost  their  heads; 
poor  Nat,  whose  pictures  nobody  bought,  had 
gone  to  seed  so  terribly — and  Grace,  at  twenty- 
nine,  would  never  again  be  anything  but  the 
woman  of  whom  people  say,  *  *  I  can  remember  her 
when  she  was  lovely." 

But  the  devil  of  it  was  that  Nat  had  never  been 
such  good  company,  or  Grace  so  free  from  care 
and  so  full  of  music;  and  that,  in  spite  of  their 
disorder  and  dishevelment,  and  the  bad  food  and 
general  crazy  discomfort,  there  was  more  amuse 
ment  to  be  got  out  of  their  society  than  out  of 
the  most  opulently  staged  house-party  through 
which  Susy  and  Lansing  had  ever  yawned  their 
way. 

It  was  almost  a  relief  to  the  young  man  when, 
on  the  second  afternoon,  Miss  Branch  drew  him 
into  the  narrow  hall  to  say :  "I  really  can 't  stand 
the  combination  of  Grace's  violin  and  little  Nat's 
motor-horn  any  longer.  Do  let  us  slip  out  till  the 
duet  is  over." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        19 

"How  do  they  stand  it,  I  wonder?"  he  basely 
echoed,  as  he  followed  her  up  the  wooded  path  be 
hind  the  house. 

"It  might  be  worth  finding  out/*  she  rejoined 
with  a  musing  smile. 

But  he  remained  resolutely  sceptical.  "Oh, 
give  them  a  year  or  two  more  and  they'll  col 
lapse — !  His  pictures  will  never  sell,  you  know. 
He'll  never  even  get  them  into  a  show." 

"I  suppose  not.  And  she'll  never  have  time  to 
do  anything  worth  while  with  her  music." 

They  had  reached  a  piny  knoll  high  above  the 
ledge  on  which  the  house  was  perched.  All  about 
them  stretched  an  empty  landscape  of  endless  fea 
tureless  wooded  hills.  "Think  of  sticking  here 
all  the  year  round!"  Lansing  groaned. 

"I  know.  But  then  think  of  wandering  over  the 
world  with  some  people!" 

' '  Oh,  Lord,  yes.  For  instance,  my  trip  to  India 
with  the  Mortimer  Hickses.  But  it  was  my  only 
chance — and  what  the  deuce  is  one  to  do  ? " 

"I  wish  I  knew!"  she  sighed,  thinking  of  the 
Bockheimers ;  and  he  turned  and  looked  at  her. 

"Knew  what?" 

"The  answer  to  your  question.  What  is  one  to 
do — when  one  sees  both  sides  of  the  problem?  Or 
every  possible  side  of  it,  indeed?" 

They  had  seated  themselves  on  a  commanding 
rock  under  the  pines,  but  Lansing  could  not  see 
the  view  at  their  feet  for  the  stir  of  the  brown 
lashes  on  her  cheek. 


20       THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"You  mean:  Nat  and  Grace  may  after  all  be 
having  the  best  of  it?" 

"How  can  I  say,  when  I've  told  you  I  see  all 
the  sides?  Of  course,"  Susy  added  hastily,  "7 
couldn  't  live  as  they  do  for  a  week.  But  it 's  won 
derful  how  little  it's  dimmed  them." 

"Certainly  Nat  was  never  more  coruscating. 
And  she  keeps  it  up  even  better."  He  reflected. 
"We  do  them  good,  I  daresay." 

"Yes — or  they  us.    I  wonder  which?" 

After  that,  he  seemed  to  remember  that  they 
sat  a  long  time  silent,  and  that  his  next  utterance 
was  a  boyish  outburst  against  the  tyranny  of  the 
existing  order  of  things,  abruptly  followed  by  the 
passionate  query  why,  since  he  and  she  couldn't 
alter  it,  and  since  they  both  had  the  habit  of  look 
ing  at  facts  as  they  were,  they  wouldn't  be  utter 
fools  not  to  take  their  chance  of  being  happy  in 
the  only  way  that  was  open  to  them?  To  this 
challenge  he  did  not  recall  Susy's  making  any 
definite  answer;  but  after  another  interval,  in 
which  all  the  world  seemed  framed  in  a  sudden 
kiss,  he  heard  her  murmur  to  herself  in  a  brood 
ing  tone:  "I  don't  suppose  it's  ever  been  tried 
before ;  but  we  might — . ' '  And  then  and  there  she 
had  laid  before  him  the  very  experiment  they  had 
since  hazarded.  .  .  . 

She  would  have  none  of  surreptitious  bliss,  she 
began  by  declaring ;  and  she  set  forth  her  reasons 
with  her  usual  lucid  impartiality.  In  the  first 
place,  she  should  have  to  marry  some  day,  and 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        21 

when  she  made  the  bargain  she  meant  it  to  be  an 
honest  one;  and  secondly,  in  the  matter  of  love, 
she  would  never  give  herself  to  anyone  she  did 
not  really  care  for,  and  if  such  happiness  ever 
came  to  her  she  did  not  want  it  shorn  of  half  its 
brightness  by  the  need  of  fibbing  and  plotting  and 
dodging. 

' <  I  've  seen  too  much  of  that  kind  of  thing.  Half 
the  women  I  know  who've  had  lovers  have  had 
them  for  the  fun  of  sneaking  and  lying  about  it; 
but  the  other  half  have  been  miserable.  And  I 
should  be  miserable." 

It  was  at  this  point  that  she  unfolded  her  plan. 
Why  shouldn't  they  marry;  belong  to  each  other 
openly  and  honourably,  if  for  ever  so  short  a  time, 
and  with  the  definite  understanding  that  whenever 
either  of  them  got  the  chance  to  do  better  he  or 
she  should  be  immediately  released?  The  law  of 
their  country  facilitated  such  exchanges,  and  so 
ciety  was  beginning  to  view  them  as  indulgently 
as  the  law.  As  Susy  talked,  she  warmed  to  her 
theme  and  began  to  develop  its  endless  possibil 
ities. 

"We  should  really,  in  a  way,  help  more  than 
we  should  hamper  each  other,"  she  ardently  ex 
plained.  "We  both  know  the  ropes  so  well;  what 
one  of  us  didn't  see  the  other  might — in  the  way 
of  opportunities,  I  mean.  And  then  we  should  be 
a  novelty  as  married  people.  We're  both  rather 
unusually  popular — why  not  be  frank? — and  it's 
such  a  blessing  for  dinner-givers  to  be  able  to 


22        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

count  on  a  couple  of  whom  neither  one  is  a  blank. 
Yes,  I  really  believe  we  should  be  more  than  twice 
the  success  we  are  now ;  at  least, ' '  she  added  with 
a  smile,  "if  there's  that  amount  of  room  for  im 
provement.  I  don't  know  how  you  feel;  a  man's 
popularity  is  so  much  less  precarious  than  a  girl's 
— but  I  know  it  would  furbish  me  up  tremend 
ously  to  reappear  as  a  married  woman."  She 
glanced  away  from  him  down  the  long  valley  at 
their  feet,  and  added  in  a  lower  tone:  "And  I 
should  like,  just  for  a  little  while,  to  feel  I  had 
something  in  life  of  my  very  own — something 
that  nobody  had  lent  me,  like  a  fancy-dress  or  a 
motor  or  an  opera  cloak." 

The  suggestion,  at  first,  had  seemed  to  Lansing 
as  mad  as  it  was  enchanting:  it  had  thoroughly 
frightened  him.  But  Susy's  arguments  were  irre 
futable,  her  ingenuities  inexhaustible.  Had  he 
ever  thought  it  all  out?  She  asked.  No.  Well, 
she  had;  and  would  he  kindly  not  interrupt?  In 
the  first  place,  there  would  be  all  the  wedding- 
presents.  Jewels,  and  a  motor,  and  a  silver  din 
ner  service,  did  she  mean?  Not  a  bit  of  it!  She 
could  see  he'd  never  given  the  question  proper 
thought.  Cheques,  my  dear,  nothing  but  cheques 
— she  undertook  to  manage  that  on  her  side:  she 
really  thought  she  could  count  on  about  fifty,  and 
she  supposed  he  could  rake  up  a  few  more"?  Well, 
all  that  would  simply  represent  pocket-money! 
For  they  would  have  plenty  of  houses  to  live  in : 
he'd  see.  People  were  always  glad  to  lend  their 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        23 

house  to  a  newly-married  couple.  It  was  such  fun 
to  pop  down  and  see  them :  it  made  one  feel  ro 
mantic  and  jolly.  All  they  need  do  was  to  accept 
the  houses  in  turn:  go  on  honey-mooning  for  a 
year!  What  was  he  afraid  of?  Didn't  he  think 
they'd  be  happy  enough  to  want  to  keep  it  up? 
And  why  not  at  least  try — get  engaged,  and  then 
see  what  would  happen?  Even  if  she  was  all 
wrong,  and  her  plan  failed,  wouldn't  it  have  been 
rather  nice,  just  for  a  month  or  two,  to  fancy  they 
were  going  to  be  happy?  "I've  often  fancied  it 
all  by  myself,"  she  concluded;  "but  fancying  it 
with  you  would  somehow  be  so  awfully  dif 
ferent.  .  .  ." 

That  was  how  it  began :  and  this  lakeside  dream 
was  what  it  had  led  up  to.  Fantastically  im 
probable  as  they  had  seemed,  all  her  previsions 
had  come  true.  If  there  were  certain  links  in  the 
chain  that  Lansing  had  never  been  able  to  put  his 
hand  on,  certain  arrangements  and  contrivances 
that  still  needed  further  elucidation,  why,  he  was 
lazily  resolved  to  clear  them  up  with  her  some 
day;  and  meanwhile  it  was  worth  all  the  past 
might  have  cost,  and  every  penalty  the  future 
might  exact  of  him,  just  to  be  sitting  here  in  the 
silence  and  sweetness,  her  sleeping  head  on  his 
knee,  clasped  in  his  joy  as  the  hushed  world  was 
clasped  in  moonlight. 

He  stooped  down  and  kissed  her.  "Wake  up," 
he  whispered,  "it's  bed- time." 


Ill 


npHEIR  month  of  Como  was  within  a  few  hours 
*-  of  ending.  Till  the  last  moment  they  had 
hoped  for  a  reprieve;  but  the  accommodating 
Streffy  had  been  unable  to  put  the  villa  at  their 
disposal  for  a  longer  time,  since  he  had  had  the 
luck  to  let  it  for  a  thumping  price  to  some  beastly 
bounders  who  insisted  on  taking  possession  at  the 
date  agreed  on. 

Lansing,  leaving  Susy's  side  at  dawn,  had  gone 
down  to  the  lake  for  a  last  plunge ;  and  swimming 
homeward  through  the  crystal  light  he  looked  up 
at  the  garden  brimming  with  flowers,  the  long  low 
house  with  the  cypress  wood  above  it,  and  the 
window  behind  which  his  wife  still  slept.  The 
month  had  been  exquisite,  and  their  happiness  as 
rare,  as  fantastically  complete,  as  the  scene  be 
fore  him.  He  sank  his  chin  into  the  sunlit  ripples 
and  sighed  for  sheer  content.  .  .  . 

It  was  a  bore  to  be  leaving  the  scene  of  such 
complete  well-being,  but  the  next  stage  in  their 
progress  promised  to  be  hardly  less  delightful. 
Susy  was  a  magician:  everything  she  predicted 
came  true.  Houses  were  being  showered  on  them ; 
on  all  sides  he  seemed  to  see  beneficent  spirits 
winging  toward  them,  laden  with  everything  from 
a  piano  nobile  in  Venice  to  a  camp  in  the  Adiron- 

24 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        25 

dacks.  For  the  present,  they  had  decided  on  the 
former.  Other  considerations  apart,  they  dared 
not  risk  the  expense  of  a  journey  across  the  At 
lantic;  so  they  were  heading  instead  for  the 
Nelson  Vanderlyns'  palace  on  the  Giudecca. 
They  were  agreed  that,  for  reasons  of  expediency, 
it  might  be  wise  to  return  to  New  York  for  the 
coming  winter.  It  would  keep  them  in  view,  and 
probably  lead  to  fresh  opportunities ;  indeed,  Susy 
already  had  in  mind  the  convenient  flat  that  she 
was  sure  a  migratory  cousin  (if  tactfully  handled, 
and  assured  that  they  would  not  overwork  her 
cook)  could  certainly  be  induced  to  lend  them. 
Meanwhile  the  need  of  making  plans  was  still  re 
mote;  and  if  there  was  one  art  in  which  young 
Lansing's  twenty-eight  years  of  existence  had 
perfected  him  it  was  that  of  living  completely  and 
unconcernedly  in  the  present.  .  .  . 

If  of  late  he  had  tried  to  look  into  the  future 
more  insistently  than  was  his  habit,  it  was  only 
because  of  Susy.  He  had  meant,  when  they 
married,  to  be  as  philosophic  for  her  as  for  him 
self  ;  and  he  knew  she  would  have  resented  above 
everything  his  regarding  their  partnership  as  a 
reason  for  anxious  thought.  But  since  they  had 
been  together  she  had  given  him  glimpses  of  her 
past  that  made  him  angrily  long  to  shelter  and  de 
fend  her  future.  It  was  intolerable  that  a  spirit 
as  fine  as  hers  should  be  ever  so  little  dulled  or 
diminished  by  the  kind  of  compromises  out  of 
which  their  wretched  lives  were  made.  For  him- 


26        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

self,  he  didn't  care  a  hang:  he  had  composed  for 
his  own  guidance  a  rough-and-ready  code,  a  short 
set  of  "mays"  and  "mustn'ts"  which  immensely 
simplified  his  course.  There  were  things  a  fellow 
put  up  with  for  the  sake  of  certain  definite  and 
otherwise  unattainable  advantages;  there  were 
other  things  he  wouldn't  traffic  with  at  any  price. 
But  for  a  woman,  he  began  to  see,  it  might  be  dif 
ferent.  The  temptations  might  be  greater,  the 
cost  considerably  higher,  the  dividing  line  between 
the  "mays"  and  "mustn'ts"  more  fluctuating  and 
less  sharply  drawn.  Susy,  thrown  on  the  world 
at  seventeen,  with  only  a  weak  wastrel  of  a  father 
to  define  that  treacherous  line  for  her,  and  with 
every  circumstance  soliciting  her  to  overstep  it, 
seemed  to  have  been  preserved  chiefly  by  an  in 
nate  scorn  of  most  of  the  objects  of  human  folly. 
"Such  trash  as  he  went  to  pieces  for,"  was  her 
curt  comment  on  her  parent's  premature  demise: 
as  though  she  accepted  in  advance  the  necessity 
of  ruining  one's  self  for  something,  but  was  re 
solved  to  discriminate  firmly  between  what  was 
worth  it  and  what  wasn't. 

This  philosophy  had  at  first  enchanted  Lansing; 
but  now  it  began  to  rouse  vague  fears.  The  fine 
armour  of  her  fastidiousness  had  preserved  her 
from  the  kind  of  risks  she  had  hitherto  been  ex 
posed  to;  but  what  if  others,  more  subtle,  found 
a  joint  in  it?  Was  there,  among  her  delicate  dis 
criminations,  any  equivalent  to  his  own  rules? 
Might  not  her  taste  for  the  best  and  rarest  be  the 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        27 

very  instrument  of  her  undoing ;  and  if  something 
that  wasn't  " trash"  came  her  way,  would  she 
hesitate  a  second  to  go  to  pieces  for  it? 

He  was  determined  to  stick  to  the  compact  that 
they  should  do  nothing  to  interfere  with  what 
each  referred  to  as  the  other's  " chance";  but 
what  if,  when  hers  came,  he  couldn't  agree  with 
her  in  recognizing  it?  He  wanted  for  her,  oh,  so 
passionately,  the  best;  but  his  conception  of  that 
best  had  so  insensibly,  so  subtly  been  transformed 
in  the  light  of  their  first  month  together! 

His  lazy  strokes  were  carrying  him  slowly 
shoreward;  but  the  hour  was  so  exquisite  that  a 
few  yards  from  the  landing  he  laid  hold  of  the 
mooring  rope  of  Streffy's  boat  and  floated  there, 
following  his  dream.  ...  It  was  a  bore  to  be 
leaving;  no  doubt  that  was  what  made  him  turn 
things  inside-out  so  uselessly.  Venice  would  be 
delicious,  of  course ;  but  nothing  would  ever  again 
be  as  sweet  as  this.  And  then  they  had  only  a 
year  of  security  before  them;  and  of  that  year  a 
month  was  gone. 

Reluctantly  he  swam  ashore,  walked  up  to  the 
house,  and  pushed  open  a  window  of  the  cool 
painted  drawing-room.  Signs  of  departure  were 
already  visible.  There  were  trunks  in  the  hall, 
tennis  rackets  on  the  stairs;  on  the  landing,  the 
cook  Giulietta  had  both  arms  around  a  slippery 
hold-all  that  refused  to  let  itself  be  strapped.  It 
all  gave  him  a  chill  sense  of  unreality,  as  if  the 
past  month  had  been  an  act  on  the  stage,  and  its 


setting  were  being  folded  away  and  rolled  into  the 
wings  to  make  room  for  another  play  in  which  he 
and  Susy  had  no  part. 

By  the  time  he  came  down  again,  dressed  and 
hungry,  to  the  terrace  where  coffee  awaited  him, 
he  had  recovered  his  usual  pleasant  sense  of  se 
curity.  Susy  was  there,  fresh  and  gay,  a  rose 
in  her  breast  and  the  sun  in  her  hair:  her  head 
was  bowed  over  Bradshaw,  but  she  waved  a  fond 
hand  across  the  breakfast  things,  and  presently 
looked  up  to  say:  "Yes,  I  believe  we  can  just 
manage  it." 

"Manage  what?" 

"To  catch  tlie  train  at  Milan — if  we  start  in 
the  motor  at  ten  sharp. ' ' 

He  stared.    ' '  The  motor  f    What  motor  ? ' ' 

"Why,  the  new  people's — Streffy's  tenants. 
He 's  never  told  me  their  name,  and  the  chauffeur 
says  he  can't  pronounce  it.  The  chauffeur's  is 
Ottaviano,  anyhow;  I've  been  making  friends  with 
him.  He  arrived  last  night,  and  he  says  they're 
not  due  at  Como  till  this  evening.  He  simply 
jumped  at  the  idea  of  running  us  over  to  Milan." 

"Good  Lord — "  said  Lansing,  when  she 
stopped. 

She  sprang  up  from  the  table  with  a  laugh.  "It 
will  be  a  scramble;  but  I'll  manage  it,  if  you'll  go 
up  at  once  and  pitch  the  last  things  into  your 
trunk. ' ' 

"Yes;  but  look  here — have  you  any  idea  what 
it's  going  to  cost?" 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        29 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  gaily.  "Why,  a  good 
deal  less  than  our  railway  tickets.  Ottaviano's 
got  a  sweetheart  in  Milan,  and  hasn't  seen  her 
for  six  months.  When  I  found  that  out  I  knew 
he'd  be  going  there  anyhow." 

It  was  clever  of  her,  and  he  laughed.  But  why 
was  it  that  he  had  grown  to  shrink  from  even 
such  harmless  evidence  of  her  always  knowing 
how  to  "manage"?  "Oh,  well,"  he  said  to  him 
self,  "she's  right:  the  fellow  would  be  sure  to  be 
going  to  Milan." 

Upstairs,  on  the  way  to  his  dressing  room,  he 
found  her  in  a  cloud  of  finery  which  her  skilful 
hands  were  forcibly  compressing  into  a  last  port 
manteau.  He  had  never  seen  anyone  pack  as 
cleverly  as  Susy:  the  way  she  coaxed  reluctant 
things  into  a  trunk  was  a  symbol  of  the  way  she 
fitted  discordant  facts  into  her  life.  "When  I'm 
rich, ' '  she  often  said,  * '  the  thing  I  shall  hate  most 
will  be  to  see  an  idiot  maid  at  my  trunks. ' ' 

As  he  passed,  she  glanced  over  her  shoulder, 
her  face  pink  with  the  struggle,  and  drew  a  cigar- 
box  from  the  depths.  "Dearest,  do  put  a  couple 
of  cigars  into  your  pocket  as  a  tip  for  Ottaviano." 

Lansing  stared.  "Why,  what  on  earth  are  you 
doing  with  Streffy's  cigars?" 

"Packing  them,  of  course.  .  .  .  You  don't  sup 
pose  he  meant  them  for  those  other  people?" 
She  gave  him  a  look  of  honest  wonder. 

"I  don't  know  whom  he  meant  them  for — but 
they're  not  ours.  ..." 


30        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

She  continued  to  look  at  him  wonderingly.  "I 
don't  see  what  there  is  to  be  solemn  about.  The 
cigars  are  not  Streffy's  either  .  .  .  you  may  be 
sure  he  got  them  out  of  some  bounder.  And 
there 's  nothing  he  'd  hate  more  than  to  have  them 
passed  on  to  another." 

"Nonsense.  If  they're  not  Streffy's  they're 
much  less  mine.  Hand  them  over,  please,  dear." 

''Just  as  you  like.  But  it  does  seem  a  waste; 
and,  of  course,  the  other  people  will  never  have 
one  of  them.  .  .  .  The  gardener  and  Giulietta's 
lover  will  see  to  that ! ' ' 

Lansing  looked  away  from  her  at  the  waves  of 
lace  and  muslin  from  which  she  emerged  like  a 
rosy  Nereid.  "How  many  boxes  of  them  are 
left?" 

"Only  four." 

"Unpack  them,  please." 

Before  she  moved  there  was  a  pause  so  full  of 
challenge  that  Lansing  had  time  for  an  exasper 
ated  sense  of  the  disproportion  between  his  anger 
and  its  cause.  And  this  made  him  still  angrier. 

She  held  out  a  box.  "The  others  are  in  your 
suit-case  downstairs.  It's  locked  and  strapped." 

"Give  me  the  key,  then." 

"We  might  send  them  back  from  Venice, 
mightn't  we?  That  lock  is  so  nasty:  it  will  take 
you  half  an  hour. ' ' 

* '  Give  me  the  key,  please. ' '    She  gave  it. 

He  went  downstairs  and  battled  with  the  lock, 
for  the  allotted  half-hour,  under  the  puzzled  eyes 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        31 

of  Giulietta  and  the  sardonic  grin  of  the  chauffeur, 
who  now  and  then,  from  the  threshold,  politely  re 
minded  him  how  long  it  would  take  to  get  to  Milan. 
Finally  the  key  turned,  and  Lansing,  broken-nailed 
and  perspiring,  extracted  the  cigars  and  stalked 
with  them  into  the  deserted  drawing  room.  The 
great  bunches  of  golden  roses  that  he  and  Susy 
had  gathered  the  day  before  were  dropping  their 
petals  on  the  marble  embroidery  of  the  floor,  pale 
camellias  floated  in  the  alabaster  tazzas  between 
the  windows,  haunting  scents  of  the  garden  blew  in 
on  him  with  the  breeze  from  the  lake.  Never  had 
Streffy's  little  house  seemed  so  like  a  nest  of 
pleasures.  Lansing  laid  the  cigar  boxes  on  a  con 
sole  and  ran  upstairs  to  collect  his  last  posses 
sions.  When  he  came  down  again,  his  wife,  her 
eyes  brilliant  with  achievement,  was  seated  in 
their  borrowed  chariot,  the  luggage  cleverly 
stowed  away,  and  Giulietta  and  the  gardener  kiss 
ing  her  hand  and  weeping  out  inconsolable  fare 
wells. 

"I  wonder  what  she's  given  them?"  he  thought, 
as  he  jumped  in  beside  her  and  the  motor  whirled 
them  through  the  nightingale-thickets  to  the  gate. 


IV 


pHARLIE  STREFFORD'S  villa  was  like  a 
^  nest  in  a  rose-bush;  the  Nelson  Vanderlyns' 
palace  called  for  loftier  analogies. 

Its  vastness  and  splendour  seemed,  in  compari 
son,  oppressive  to  Susy.  Their  landing,  after 
dark,  at  the  foot  of  the  great  shadowy  staircase, 
their  dinner  at  a  dimly-lit  table  under  a  ceiling 
weighed  down  with  Olympians,  their  chilly  eve 
ning  in  a  corner  of  a  drawing  room  where  minuets 
should  have  been  danced  before  a  throne,  con 
trasted  with  the  happy  intimacies  of  Como  as  their 
sudden  sense  of  disaccord  contrasted  with  the 
mutual  confidence  of  the  day  before. 

The  journey  had  been  particularly  jolly:  both 
Susy  and  Lansing  had  had  too  long  a  discipline 
in  the  art  of  smoothing  things  over  not  to  make  a 
special  effort  to  hide  from  each  other  the  ravages 
of  their  first  disagreement.  But,  deep  down  and 
invisible,  the  disagreement  remained;  and  com 
punction  for  having  been  its  cause  gnawed  at 
Susy's  bosom  as  she  sat  in  her  tapestried  and 
vaulted  bedroom,  brushing  her  hair  before  a  tar 
nished  mirror. 

"I  thought  I  liked  grandeur;  but  this  place  is 
really  out  of  scale,"  she  mused,  watching  the  re- 

32 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        33 

flection  of  a  pale  hand  move  back  and  forward  in 
the  dim  recesses  of  the  mirror. 

"And  yet,"  she  continued,  "Ellie  Vanderlyn's 
hardly  half  an  inch  taller  than  I  am ;  and  she  cer 
tainly  isn't  a  bit  more  dignified.  ...  I  wonder  if 
it's  because  I  feel  so  horribly  small  to-night  that 
the  place  seems  so  horribly  big. ' ' 

She  loved  luxury :  splendid  things  always  made 
her  feel  handsome  and  high  ceilings  arrogant; 
she  did  not  remember  having  ever  before  been 
oppressed  by  the  evidences  of  wealth. 

She  laid  down  the  brush  and  leaned  her  chin  on 
her  clasped  hands.  .  .  .  Even  now  she  could  not 
understand  what  had  made  her  take  the  cigars. 
She  had  always  been  alive  to  the  value  of  her  in 
herited  scruples:  her  reasoned  opinions  were  un 
usually  free,  but  with  regard  to  the  things  one 
couldn't  reason  about  she  was  oddly  tenacious. 
And  yet  she  had  taken  Streffy's  cigars!  She  had 
taken  them — yes,  that  was  the  point — she  had 
taken  them  for  Nick,  because  the  desire  to  please 
him,  to  make  the  smallest  details  of  his  life  easy 
and  agreeable  and  luxurious,  had  become  her  ab 
sorbing  preoccupation.  She  had  committed,  for 
him,  precisely  the  kind  of  little  baseness  she  would 
most  have  scorned  to  commit  for  herself;  and, 
since  he  hadn't  instantly  felt  the  difference,  she 
would  never  be  able  to  explain  it  to  him. 

She  stood  up  with  a  sigh,  shook  out  her  loosened 
hair,  and  glanced  around  the  great  frescoed  room. 
The  maid-servant  had  said  something  about  the 


34        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Signora's  having  left  a  letter  for  her ;  and  there  it 
lay  on  the  writing-table,  with  her  mail  and  Nick's ; 
a  thick  envelope  addressed  in  Ellie's  childish 
scrawl,  with  a  glaring  " Private''  dashed  across 
the  corner. 

"What  on  earth  can  she  have  to  say,  when  she 
hates  writing  sol"  Susy  mused. 

She  broke  open  the  enveldpe,  and  four  or  five 
stamped  and  sealed  letters  fell  from  it.  All  were 
addressed,  in  Ellie's  hand,  to  Nelson  Vanderlyn 
Esqre ;  and  in  the  corner  of  each  was  faintly  pen 
cilled  a  number  and  a  date :  one,  two,  three,  four — 
with  a  week's  interval  between  the  dates. 

"Goodness — "  gasped  Susy,  understanding. 

She  had  dropped  into  an  armchair  near  the 
table,  and  for  a  long  time  she  sat  staring  at  the 
numbered  letters.  A  sheet  of  paper  covered  with 
Ellie's  writing  had  fluttered  out  among  them,  but 
she  let  it  lie ;  she  knew  so  well  what  it  would  say ! 
She  knew  all  about  her  friend,  of  course;  except 
poor  old  Nelson,  who  didn't?  But  she  had  never 
imagined  that  Ellie  would  dare  to  use  her  in  this 
way.  It  was  unbelievable  .  .  .  she  had  never  pic 
tured  anything  so  vile.  .  .  .  The  blood  rushed  to 
her  face,  and  she  sprang  up  angrily,  half  minded 
to  tear  the  letters  in  bits  and  throw  them  all  into 
the  fire. 

She  heard  her  husband's  knock  on  the  door  be 
tween  their  rooms,  and  swept  the  dangerous 
packet  under  the  blotting-book. 

"Oh,  go  away,  please,  there's    a    dear,"  she 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        35 

called  out;  "I  haven't  finished  unpacking,  and 
everything's  in  such  a  mess."  Gathering  up 
Nick's  papers  and  letters,  she  ran  across  the  room 
and  thrust  them  through  the  door.  "Here's 
something  to  keep  you  quiet,"  she  laughed,  shin 
ing  in  on  him  an  instant  from  the  threshold. 

She  turned  back  feeling  weak  with  shame.  El- 
lie  's  letter  lay  on  the  floor :  reluctantly  she  stooped 
to  pick  it  up,  and  one  by  one  the  expected  phrases 
sprang  out  at  her. 

"One  good  turn  deserves  another.  ...  Of 
course  you  and  Nick  are  welcome  to  stay  all  sum 
mer.  .  .  .  There  won't  be  a  particle  of  expense 
for  you — the  servants  have  orders.  ...  If  you'll 
just  be  an  angel  and  post  these  letters  yourself. 
.  .  .  It's  been  my  only  chance  for  such  an  age; 
when  we  meet  I'll  explain  everything.  And  in  a 
month  at  latest  I'll  be  back  to  fetch  Clarissa " 

Susy  lifted  the  letter  to  the  lamp  to  be  sure  she 
had  read  aright.  To  fetch  Clarissa !  ThenEllie's 
child  was  here?  Here,  under  the  roof  with  them, 
left  to  their  care?  She  read  on,  raging.  "She's 
so  delighted,  poor  darling,  to  know  you're  coming. 
I've  had  to  sack  her  beastly  governess  for  im 
pertinence,  and  if  it  weren't  for  you  she'd  be  all 
alone  with  a  lot  of  servants  I  don't  much  trust. 
So  for  pity's  sake  be  good  to  my  child,  and  forgive 
me  for  leaving  her.  She  thinks  I've  gone  to  take 
a  cure ;  and  she  knows  she 's  not  to  tell  her  Daddy 
that  I'm  away,  because  it  would  only  worry  him  if 
he  thought  I  was  ill.  She's  perfectly  to  be 


36        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

trusted;  you'll  see  what  a  clever  angel  she  is. . . ." 
And  then,  at  the  bottom  of  the  page,  in  a  last 
slanting  postscript:  "Susy  darling,  if  you've  ever 
owed  me  anything  in  the  way  of  kindness,  you 
won't,  on  your  sacred  honour,  say  a  word  of  this 
to  any  one,  even  to  Nick.  And  I  know  I  can  count 
on  you  to  rub  out  the  numbers." 

Susy  sprang  up  and  tossed  Mrs.  Vanderlyn's 
letter  into  the  fire:  then  she  came  slowly  back  to 
the  chair.  There,  at  her  elbow,  lay  the  four  fatal 
envelopes ;  and  her  next  affair  was  to  make  up  her 
mind  what  to  do  with  them. 

To  destroy  them  on  the  spot  had  seemed,  at  first 
thought,  inevitable:  it  might  be  saving  Ellie  as 
well  as  herself.  But  such  a  step  seemed  to  Susy 
to  involve  departure  on  the  morrow,  and  this  in 
turn  involved  notifying  Ellie,  whose  letter  she  had 
vainly  scanned  for  an  address.  Well — perhaps 
Clarissa's  nurse  would  know  where  one  could 
write  to  her  mother ;  it  was  unlikely  that  even  El 
lie  would  go  off  without  assuring  some  means  of 
communication  with  her  child.  At  any  rate,  there 
was  nothing  to  be  done  that  night :  nothing  but  to 
work  out  the  details  of  their  flight  on  the  morrow, 
and  rack  her  brains  to  find  a  substitute  for  the 
hospitality  they  were  rejecting.  Susy  did  not  dis 
guise  from  herself  how  much  she  had  counted  on 
the  Vanderlyn  apartment  for  the  summer:  to  be 
able  to  do  so  had  singularly  simplified  the  future. 
She  knew  Ellie 's  largeness  of  hand,  and  had  been 
sure  in  advance  that  as  long  as  they  were  her 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        37 

guests  their  only  expense  would  be  an  occasional 
present  to  the  servants.  And  what  would  the  al 
ternative  be?  She  and  Lansing,  in  their  endless 
talks,  had  so  lived  themselves  into  the  vision  of 
indolent  summer  days  on  the  lagoon,  of  flaming 
hours  on  the  beach  of  the  Lido,  and  evenings  of 
music  and  dreams  on  their  broad  balcony  above 
the  Giudecca,  that  the  idea  of  having  to  renounce 
these  joys,  and  deprive  her  Nick  of  them,  filled 
Susy  with  a  wrath  intensified  by  his  having  con 
fided  in  her  that  when  they  were  quietly  settled  in 
Venice  he  " meant  to  write."  Already  nascent  in 
her  breast  was  the  fierce  resolve  of  the  author's 
wife  to  defend  her  husband's  privacy  and  facili 
tate  his  encounters  with  the  Muse.  It  was  abom 
inable,  simply  abominable,  that  Ellie  Vanderlyn 
should  have  drawn  her  into  such  a  trap ! 

Well — there  was  nothing  for  it  but  to  make  a 
clean  breast  of  the  whole  thing  to  Nick.  The 
trivial  incident  of  the  cigars — how  trivial  it  now 
seemed! — showed  her  the  kind  of  stand  he  would 
take,  and  communicated  to  her  something  of  his 
own  uncompromising  energy.  She  would  tell  him 
the  whole  story  in  the  morning,  and  try  to  find  a 
way  out  with  him:  Susy's  faith  in  her  power  of 
finding  a  way  out  was  inexhaustible.  But  suddenly 
she  remembered  the  adjuration  at  the  end  of  Mrs. 
Vanderlyn 's  letter:  "If  you're  ever  owed  me 
anything  in  the  way  of  kindness,  you  won't,  on 
your  sacred  honour,  say  a  word  to  Nick.  ..." 

It  was,  of  course,  exactly  what  no  one  had  the 


38        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

right  to  ask  of  her:  if  indeed  the  word  " right" 
could  be  used  in  any  conceivable  relation  to  this 
coil  of  wrongs.  But  the  fact  remained  that,  in  the 
way  of  kindness,  she  did  owe  much  to  Ellie ;  and 
that  this  was  the  first  payment  her  friend  had  ever 
exacted.  She  found  herself,  in  fact,  in  exactly  the 
same  position  as  when  Ursula  Gillow,  using  the 
same  argument,  had  appealed  to  her  to  give  up 
Nick  Lansing.  Yes,  Susy  reflected ;  but  then  Nel 
son  Vanderlyn  had  been  kind  to  her  too ;  and  the 
money  Ellie  had  been  so  kind  with  was  Nelson's. 
.  .  .  The  queer  edifice  of  Susy's  standards  tot 
tered  on  its  base — she  honestly  didn't  know  where 
fairness  lay,  as  between  so  much  that  was  foul. 

The  very  depth  of  her  perplexity  puzzled  her. 
She  had  been  in  " tight  places"  before;  had  indeed 
been  in  so  few  that  were  not,  in  one  way  or  an 
other,  constricting!  As  she  looked  back  on  her 
past  it  lay  before  her  as  a  very  network  of  per 
petual  concessions  and  contrivings.  But  never  be 
fore  had  she  had  such  a  sense  of  being  tripped  up, 
gagged  and  pinioned.  The  little  misery  of  the 
cigars  still  galled  her,  and  now  this  big  humilia 
tion  superposed  itself  on  the  raw  wound.  Decid 
edly,  the  second  month  of  their  honey-moon  was 
beginning  cloudily.  .  .  . 

She  glanced  at  the  enamelled  travelling-clock 
on  her  dressing  table — one  of  the  few  wedding- 
presents  she  had  consented  to  accept  in  kind — and 
was  startled  at  the  lateness  of  the  hour.  In  a  mo 
ment  Nick  would  be  coming;  and  an  uncomfortable 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        39 

sensation  in  her  throat  warned  her  that  through 
sheer  nervousness  and  exasperation  she  might 
blurt  out  something  ill-advised.  The  old  habit  of 
being  always  on  her  guard  made  her  turn  once 
more  to  the  looking-glass.  Her  face  was  pale  and 
haggard;  and  having,  by  a  swift  and  skilful  ap 
plication  of  cosmetics,  increased  its  appearance  of 
fatigue,  she  crossed  the  room  and  softly  opened 
her  husband's  door. 

He  too  sat  by  a  lamp,  reading  a  letter  which  he 
put  aside  as  she  entered.  His  face  was  grave,  and 
she  said  to  herself  that  he  was  certainly  still  think 
ing  about  the  cigars. 

"I'm  very  tired,  dearest,  and  my  head  aches  so 
horribly  that  I've  come  to  bid  you  good-night." 
Bending  over  the  back  of  his  chair,  she  laid  her 
arms  on  his  shoulders.  He  lifted  his  hands  to 
clasp  hers,  but,  as  he  threw  his  head  back  to  smile 
up  at  her  she  noticed  that  his  look  was  still 
serious,  almost  remote.  It  was  as  if,  for  the  first 
time,  a  faint  veil  hung  between  his  eyes  and  hers. 

"I'm  so  sorry:  it's  been  a  long  day  for  you," 
he  said  absently,  pressing  his  lips  to  her  hands. 

She  felt  the  dreaded  twitch  in  her  throat. 

"Nick!"  she  burst  out,  tightening  her  embrace, 
"before  I  go,  you've  got  to  swear  to  me  on  your 
honour  that  you  Jcnoiu  I  should  never  have  taken 
those  cigars  for  myself!" 

For  a  moment  he  stared  at  her,  and  she  stared 
back  at  him  with  equal  gravity;  then  the  same 
irresistible  mirth  welled  up  in  both,  and  Susy's 


40        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

compunctions   were   swept   away   on  a   gale   of 
laughter. 

When  she  woke  the  next  morning  the  sun  was 
pouring  in  between  her  curtains  of  old  brocade, 
and  its  refraction  from  the  ripples  of  the  Canal 
was  drawing  a  network  of  golden  scales  across  the 
vaulted  ceiling.  The  maid  had  just  placed  a  tray 
on  a  slim  marquetry  table  near  the  bed,  and  over 
the  edge  of  the  tray  Susy  discovered  the  small 
serious  face  of  Clarissa  Vanderlyn.  At  the  sight 
of  the  little  girl  all  her  dormant  qualms  awoke. 

Clarissa  was  just  eight,  and  small  for  her  age : 
her  little  round  chin  was  barely  on  a  level  with  the 
tea-service,  and  her  clear  brown  eyes  gazed  at 
Susy  between  the  ribs  of  the  toast-rack  and  the 
single  tea-rose  in  an  old  Murano  glass.  Susy  had 
not  seen  her  for  two  years,  and  she  seemed,  in  the 
interval,  to  have  passed  from  a  thoughtful  infancy 
to  complete  ripeness  of  feminine  experience.  She 
was  looking  with  approval  at  her  mother's  guest. 

"I'm  so  glad  you've  come,"  she  said  in  a  small 
sweet  voice.  "I  like  you  so  very  much.  I  know 
I'm  not  to  be  often  with  you;  but  at  least  you'll 
have  an  eye  on  me,  won't  you?" 

"An  eye  on  you!  I  shall  never  want  to  have  it 
off  you,  if  you  say  such  nice  things  to  me !"  Susy 
laughed,  leaning  from  her  pillows  to  draw  the  little 
girl  up  to  her  side. 

Clarissa  smiled  and  settled  herself  down  com 
fortably  on  the  silken  bedspread.  "Oh,  I  know 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        41 

I'm  not  to  be  always  about,  because  you're  just 
married;  but  could  you  see  to  it  that  I  have  my 
meals  regularly?" 

'  *  Why,  you  poor  darling !    Don 't  you  always  ? ' ' 

"Not  when  mother's  away  on  these  cures.  The 
servants  don't  always  obey  me:  you  see  I'm  so 
little  for  my  age.  In  a  few  years,  of  course,  they'll 
have  to — even  if  I  don't  grow  much,"  she  added 
judiciously.  She  put  out  her  hand  and  touched  the 
string  of  pearls  about  Susy's  throat.  "They're 
small,  but  they're  very  good.  I  suppose  you  don't 
take  the  others  when  you  travel  ? ' ' 

"The  others?  Bless  you!  I  haven't  any  others 
— and  never  shall  have,  probably. ' ' 

"No  other  pearls?" 

"No  other  jewels  at  all." 

Clarissa  stared.  "Is  that  really  true?"  she 
asked,  as  if  in  the  presence  of  the  unprecedented. 

'  *  Awfully  true, ' '  Susy  confessed.  '  *  But  I  think 
I  can  make  the  servants  obey  me  all  the  same." 

This  point  seemed  to  have  lost  its  interest  for 
Clarissa,  who  was  still  gravely  scrutinizing  her 
companion.  After  a  while  she  brought  forth  an 
other  question. 

"Did  you  have  to  give  up  all  your  jewels  when 
you  were  divorced?" 

"Divorced — ?"  Susy  threw  her  head  back 
against  the  pillows  and  laughed.  "Why,  what  are 
you  thinking  of?  Don't  you  remember  that  I 
wasn't  even  married  the  last  time  you  saw  me?" 

' '  Yes ;  I  do.    But  that  was  two  years  ago. ' '    The 


42        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

little  girl  wound  her  arms  about  Susy's  neck  and 
leaned  against  her  caressingly.  "Are  you  going 
to  be  soon,  then?  I'll  promise  not  to  tell  if  you 
don't  want  me  to." 

"Going  to  be  divorced?  Of  course  not!  What 
in  the  world  made  you  think  so  ? ' ' 

"Because  you  look  so  awfully  happy,"  said 
Clarissa  Vanderlyn  simply. 


IT  was  a  trifling  enough  sign,  but  it  had  re 
mained  in  Susy's  mind:  that  first  morning  in 
Venice  Nick  had  gone  out  without  first  coming  in 
to  see  her.  She  had  stayed  in  bed  late,  chatting 
with  Clarissa,  and  expecting  to  see  the  door  open 
and  her  husband  appear ;  and  when  the  child  left, 
and  she  had  jumped  up  and  looked  into  Nick's 
room,  she  found  it  empty,  and  a  line  on  his  dress 
ing  table  informed  her  that  he  had  gone  out  to 
send  a  telegram. 

It  was  lover-like,  and  even  boyish,  of  him  to 
think  it  necessary  to  explain  his  absence ;  but  why 
had  he  not  simply  come  in  and  told  her  ?  She  in 
stinctively  connected  the  little  fact  with  the  shade 
of  preoccupation  she  had  noticed  on  his  face  the 
night  before,  when  she  had  gone  to  his  room  and 
found  him  absorbed  in  a  letter;  and  while  she 
dressed  she  had  continued  to  wonder  what  was  in 
the  letter,  and  whether  the  telegram  he  had  hur 
ried  out  to  send  was  an  answer  to  it. 

She  had  never  found  out.  When  he  reappeared, 
handsome  and  happy  as  the  morning,  he  proffered 
no  explanation;  and  it  was  part  of  her  life-long 
policy  not  to  put  uncalled-for  questions.  It  was 
not  only  that  her  jealous  regard  for  her  own  free 
dom  was  matched  by  an  equal  respect  for  that  of 
others ;  she  had  steered  too  long  among  the  social 

43 


44        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

reefs  and  shoals  not  to  know  how  narrow  is  the 
passage  that  leads  to  peace  of  mind,  and  she  was 
determined  to  keep  her  little  craft  in  mid-channel. 
But  the  incident  had  lodged  itself  in  her  memory, 
acquiring  a  sort  of  symbolic  significance,  as  of  a 
turning-point  in  her  relations  with  her  husband. 
Not  that  these  were  less  happy,  but  that  she  now 
beheld  them,  as  she  had  always  formerly  beheld 
such  joys,  as  an  unstable  islet  in  a  sea  of  storms. 
Her  present  bliss  was  as  complete  as  ever,  but  it 
was  ringed  by  the  perpetual  menace  of  all  she 
knew  she  was  hiding  from  Nick,  and  of  all  she  sus 
pected  him  of  hiding  from  her.  .  .  . 

She  was  thinking  of  these  things  one  afternoon 
about  three  weeks  after  their  arrival  in  Venice. 
It  was  near  sunset,  and  she  sat  alone  on  the  bal 
cony,  watching  the  cross-lights  on  the  water  weave 
their  pattern  above  the  flushed  reflection  of  old 
palace-basements.  She  was  almost  always  alone 
at  that  hour.  Nick  had  taken  to  writing  in  the 
afternoons — he  had  been  as  good  as  his  word,  and 
so,  apparently,  had  the  Muse — and  it  was  his  habit 
to  join  his  wife  only  at  sunset,  for  a  late  row  on 
the  lagoon.  She  had  taken  Clarissa,  as  usual,  to 
the  Giardino  Pubblico,  where  that  obliging  child 
had  politely  but  indifferently  ''played" — Clarissa 
joined  in  the  diversions  of  her  age  as  if  conform 
ing  to  an  obsolete  tradition — and  had  brought  her 
back  for  a  music  lesson,  echoes  of  which  now 
drifted  down  from  a  distant  window. 

Susy  had  come  to  be  extremely  thankful  for 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        45 

Clarissa.  But  for  the  little  girl,  her  pride  in  her 
husband's  industry  might  have  been  tinged  with 
a  faint  sense  of  being  at  times  left  out  and  for 
gotten;  and  as  Nick's  industry  was  the  completest 
justification  for  their  being  where  they  were,  and 
for  her  having  done  what  she  had,  she  was  grate 
ful  to  Clarissa  for  helping  her  to  feel  less  alone. 
Clarissa,  indeed,  represented  the  other  half  of  her 
justification :  it  was  as  much  on  the  child's  account 
as  on  Nick's  that  Susy  had  held  her  tongue,  re 
mained  in  Venice,  and  slipped  out  once  a  week  to 
post  one  of  Ellie's  numbered  letters.  A  day's  ex 
perience  of  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn  had  convinced 
Susy  of  the  impossibility  of  deserting  Clarissa. 
Long  experience  had  shown  her  that  the  most 
crowded  households  often  contain  the  loneliest 
nurseries,  and  that  the  rich  child  is  exposed  to 
evils  unknown  to  less  pampered  infancy;  but 
hitherto  such  things  had  merely  been  to  her  one  of 
the  uglier  bits  in  the  big  muddled  pattern  of  life. 
Now  she  found  herself  feeling  where  before  she 
had  only  judged :  her  precarious  bliss  came  to  her 
charged  with  a  new  weight  of  pity. 

She  was  thinking  of  these  things,  and  of  the  ap 
proaching  date  of  Ellie  Vanderlyn 's  return,  and  of 
the  searching  truths  she  was  storing  up  for  that 
lady's  private  ear,  when  she  noticed  a  gondola 
turning  its  prow  toward  the  steps  below  the  bal 
cony.  She  leaned  over,  and  a  tall  gentleman  in 
shabby  clothes,  glancing  up  at  her  as  he  jumped 
out,  waved  a  mouldy  Panama  in  joyful  greeting. 


46        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Streffy!"  she  exclaimed  as  joyfully;  and  she 
was  half-way  down  the  stairs  when  he  ran  up 
them  followed  by  his  luggage-laden  boatman. 

"It's  all  right,  I  suppose? — Ellie  said  I  might 
come,"  he  explained  in  a  shrill  cheerful  voice; 
"and  I'm  to  have  my  same  green  room  with  the 
parrot-panels,  because  its  furniture  is  already  so 
frightfully  stained  with  my  hair-wash." 

Susy  was  beaming  on  him  with  the  deep  sense  of 
satisfaction  which  his  presence  always  produced 
in  his  friends.  There  was  no  one  in  the  world, 
they  all  agreed,  half  as  ugly  and  untidy  and  de 
lightful  as  Streffy ;  no  one  who  combined  such  out 
spoken  selfishness  with  such  imperturbable  good 
humour ;  no  one  who  knew  so  well  how  to  make  you 
believe  he  was  being  charming  to  you  when  it  was 
you  who  were  being  charming  to  him. 

In  addition  to  these  seductions,  of  which  none 
estimated  the  value  more  accurately  than  their 
possessor,  Strefford  had  for  Susy  another  attrac 
tion  of  which  he  was  probably  unconscious.  It  was 
that  of  being  the  one  rooted  and  stable  being 
among  the  fluid  and  shifting  figures  that  composed 
her  world.  Susy  had  always  lived  among  people 
so  denationalized  that  those  one  took  for  Eussians 
generally  turned  out  to  be  American,  and  those 
one  was  inclined  to  ascribe  to  New  York  proved  to 
have  originated  in  Eome  or  Bucharest.  These  cos 
mopolitan  people,  who,  in  countries  not  their  own, 
lived  in  houses  as  big  as  hotels,  or  in  hotels  where 
the  guests  were  as  international  as  the  waiters, 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        47 

had  inter-married,  inter-loved  and  inter-divorced 
each  other  over  the  whole  face  of  Europe,  and  ac 
cording  to  every  code  that  attempts  to  regulate 
human  ties.  Strefford,  too,  had  his  home  in  this 
world,  but  only  one  of  his  homes.  The  other,  the 
one  he  spoke  of,  and  probably  thought  of,  least 
often,  was  a  great  dull  English  country-house  in 
a  northern  county,  where  a  life  as  monotonous  and 
self-contained  as  his  own  was  chequered  and  dis 
persed  had  gone  on  for  generation  after  genera 
tion  ;  and  it  was  the  sense  of  that  house,  and  of  all 
it  typified  even  to  his  vagrancy  and  irreverence, 
which,  coming  out  now  and  then  in  his  talk, 
or  in  his  attitude  toward  something  or  some 
body,  gave  him  a  firmer  outline  and  a  steadier 
footing  than  the  other  marionettes  in  the  dance. 
Superficially  so  like  them  all,  and  so  eager 
to  outdo  them  in  detachment  and  adaptability, 
ridiculing  the  prejudices  he  had  shaken  off,  and 
the  people  to  whom  he  belonged,  he  still  kept, 
under  his  easy  pliancy,  the  skeleton  of  old  faiths 
and  old  fashions.  "He  talks  every  language  as 
well  as  the  rest  of  us,"  Susy  had  once  said  of  him, 
' '  but  at  least  he  talks  one  language  better  than  the 
others ";  and  Strefford,  told  of  the  remark,  had 
laughed,  called  her  an  idiot,  and  been  pleased. 

As  he  shambled  up  the  stairs  with  her,  arm  in 
arm,  she  was  thinking  of  this  quality  with  a  new 
appreciation  of  its  value.  Even  she  and  Lansing, 
in  spite  of  their  unmixed  Americanism,  their  sub 
stantial  background  of  old-fashioned  cousinships 


48        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

in  New  York  and  Philadelphia,  were  as  mentally 
detached,  as  universally  at  home,  as  touts  at  an 
International  Exhibition.  If  they  were  usually 
recognized  as  Americans  it  was  only  because  they 
spoke  French  so  well,  and  because  Nick  was  too 
fair  to  be  "foreign,"  and  too  sharp-featured  to  be 
English.  But  Charlie  Strefford  was  English  with 
all  the  strength  of  an  inveterate  habit ;  and  some 
thing  in  Susy  was  slowly  waking  to  a  sense  of  the 
beauty  of  habit. 

Lounging  on  the  balcony,  whither  he  had  fol 
lowed  her  without  pausing  to  remove  the  stains  of 
travel,  Strefford  showed  himself  immensely  inter 
ested  in  the  last  chapter  of  her  history,  greatly 
pleased  at  its  having  been  enacted  under  his  roof, 
and  hugely  and  flippantly  amused  at  the  firmness 
with  which  she  refused  to  let  him  see  Nick  till  the 
latter 's  daily  task  was  over. 

"Writing?  Eot!  What's  he  writing?  He's 
breaking  you  in,  my  dear;  that's  what  he's  doing: 
establishing  an  alibi.  What '11  you  bet  he's  just 
sitting  there  smoking  and  reading  Le  Eire?  Let's 
go  and  see." 

But  Susy  was  firm.  "He's  read  me  his  first 
chapter:  it's  wonderful.  It's  a  philosophic  ro 
mance — rather  like  Marius,  you  know." 

"Oh,  yes — I  do!"  said  Strefford,  with  a  laugh 
that  she  thought  idiotic. 

She  flushed  up  like  a  child.  "You're  stupid, 
Streffy.  You  forget  that  Nick  and  I  don't  need 
alibis.  We've  got  rid  of  all  that  hyprocrisy  by 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        49 

agreeing  that  each  will  give  the  other  a  hand  up 
when  either  of  us  wants  a  change.  We've  not 
married  to  spy  and  lie,  and  nag  each  other ;  we  've 
formed  a  partnership  for  our  mutual  advantage. ' ' 

"I  see ;  that's  capital.  But  how  can  you  be  sure 
that,  when  Nick  wants  a  change,  you'll  consider  it 
for  his  advantage  to  have  one?" 

It  was  the  point  that  had  always  secretly  tor 
mented  Susy ;  she  often  wondered  if  it  equally  tor 
mented  Nick. 

"I  hope  I  shall  have  enough  common  sense — " 
she  began. 

"Oh,  of  course:  common  sense  is  what  you're 
both  bound  to  base  your  argument  on,  whichever 
way  you  argue." 

This  flash  of  insight  disconcerted  her,  and  she 
said,  a  little  irritably:  "What  should  you  do  then, 
if  you  married? — Hush,  Streffy!  I  forbid  you  to 
shout  like  that — all  the  gondolas  are  stopping  to 
look!" 

* '  How  can  I  help  it  ? "  He  rocked  backward  and 
forward  in  his  chair.  "  'If  you  marry/  she  says: 
*  Streffy,  what  have  you  decided  to  do  if  you  sud 
denly  become  a  raving  maniac  I'  " 

* '  I  said  no  such  thing.  If  your  uncle  and  your 
cousin  died,  you'd  marry  to-morrow;  you  know 
you  would." 

"Oh,  now  you're  talking  business."  He  folded 
his  long  arms  and  leaned  over  the  balcony,  looking 
down  at  the  dusky  ripples  streaked  with  fire.  "In 
that  case  I  should  say : '  Susan,  my  dear — Susan — 


50        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

now  that  by  the  merciful  intervention  of  Provi 
dence  yon  have  become  Countess  of  Altringham 
in  the  peerage  of  Great  Britain,  and  Baroness 
Dunsterville  and  d'Amblay  in  the  peerages  of  Ire 
land  and  Scotland,  I'll  thank  you  to  remember  that 
you  are  a  member  of  one  of  the  most  ancient 
houses  in  the  United  Kingdom — and  not  to  get 
found  out/  " 

Susy  laughed.  "We  know  what  those  warnings 
mean !  I  pity  my  namesake. ' ' 

He  swung  about  and  gave  her  a  quick  look  out 
of  his  small  ugly  twinkling  eyes.  "Is  there  any 
other  woman  in  the  world  named  Susan?" 

"I  hope  so,  if  the  name's  an  essential.  Even  if 
Nick  chucks  me,  don't  count  on  me  to  carry  out 
that  programme.  I've  seen  it  in  practice  too 
often." 

"Oh,  well:  as  far  as  I  know,  everybody's  in  per 
fect  health  at  Altringham."  He  fumbled  in  his 
pocket  and  drew  out  a  fountain-pen,  a  handker 
chief  over  which  it  had  leaked,  and  a  packet  of 
dishevelled  cigarettes.  Lighting  one,  and  restor 
ing  the  other  objects  to  his  pocket,  he  continued 
calmly :  "Tell  me — how  did  you  manage  to  smooth 
things  over  with  the  Gillows?  Ursula  was  run 
ning  amuck  when  I  was  in  Newport  last  Summer ; 
it  was  just  when  people  were  beginning  to  say  that 
you  were  going  to  marry  Nick.  I  was  afraid  she  'd 
put  a  spoke  in  your  wheel;  and  I  hear  she  put  a 
big  cheque  in  your  hand  instead. ' ' 

Susy  was  silent.    From   the   first   moment   of 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        51 

Strefford's  appearance  she  had  known  that  in  the 
course  of  time  he  would  put  that  question.  He 
was  as  inquisitive  as  a  monkey,  and  when  he  had 
made  up  his  mind  to  find  out  anything  it  was  use 
less  to  try  to  divert  his  attention.  After  a  mo 
ment's  hesitation  she  said:  "I  flirted  with  Fred. 
It  was  a  bore — but  he  was  very  decent." 

'  *  He  would  be — poor  Fred.  And  you  got  Ursula 
thoroughly  frightened  ? ' ' 

"Well — enough.  And  then  luckily  that  young 
Nerone  Altineri  turned  up  from  Rome:  he  went 
over  to  New  York  to  look  for  a  job  as  an  engineer, 
and  Ursula  made  Fred  put  him  in  their  iron 
works."  She  paused  again,  and  then  added 
abruptly :  l l  Streffy !  If  you  knew  how  I  hate  that 
kind  of  thing.  I'd  rather  have  Nick  come  in  now 
and  tell  me  frankly,  as  I  know  he  would,  that  he's 
going  off  with — " 

"With  Coral  Hicks?"  Streiford  suggested. 

She  laughed.  "Poor  Coral  Hicks!  What  on 
earth  made  you  think  of  the  Hickses  f ' ' 

"Because  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  them  the  other 
day  at  Capri.  They're  cruising  about:  they  said 
they  were  coming  in  here. ' ' 

"What  a  nuisance!  I  do  hope  they  won't  find 
us  out.  They  were  awfully  kind  to  Nick  when  he 
went  to  India  with  them,  and  they're  so  simple- 
minded  that  they  would  expect  him  to  be  glad  to 
see  them. ' ' 

Strefford  aimed  his  cigarette-end  at  a  tourist 
in  a  puggaree  who  was  gazing  up  from  his  guide- 


52        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

book  at  the  palace.  "Ah,"  he  murmured  with 
satisfaction,  seeing  the  shot  take  effect;  then  he 
added:  "Coral  Hicks  is  growing  up  rather 
pretty." 

' '  Oh,  Streff — you  're  dreaming !  That  lump  of  a 
girl  with  spectacles  and  thick  ankles !  Poor  Mrs. 
Hicks  used  to  say  to  Nick:  'When  Mr.  Hicks  and 
I  had  Coral  educated  we  presumed  culture  was  in 
greater  demand  in  Europe  than  it  appears  to 
be.'  " 

"Well,  you'll  see:  that  girl's  education  won't 
interfere  with  her,  once  she's  started.  So  then: 
if  Nick  came  in  and  told  you  he  was  going  off — " 

' '  I  should  be  so  thankful  if  it  was  with  a  fright 
like  Coral!  But  you  know,"  she  added  with  a 
smile,  "we've  agreed  that  it's  not  to  happen  for 
a  year." 


VI 


SUSY  found  Strefford,  after  his  first  burst  of 
nonsense,  unusually  kind  and  responsive.  The 
interest  he  showed  in  her  future  and  Nick's 
seemed  to  proceed  not  so  much  from  his  habitual 
spirit  of  scientific  curiosity  as  from  simple  friend 
liness.  He  was  privileged  to  see  Nick's  first  chap 
ter,  of  which  he  formed  so  favourable  an  impres 
sion  that  he  spoke  sternly  to  Susy  on  the  impor 
tance  of  respecting  her  husband's  working  hours; 
and  he  even  carried  his  general  benevolence  to  the 
length  of  showing  a  fatherly  interest  in  Clarissa 
Vanderlyn.  He  was  always  charming  to  children, 
but  fitfully  and  warily,  with  an  eye  on  his  inde 
pendence,  and  on  the  possibility  of  being  suddenly 
bored  by  them ;  Susy  had  never  seen  him  abandon 
these  precautions  so  completely  as  he  did  with 
Clarissa. 

"Poor  little  devil!  Who  looks  after  her  when 
you  and  Nick  are  off  together?  Do  you  mean  to 
tell  me  Ellie  sacked  the  governess  and  went  away 
without  having  anyone  to  take  her  place  I ' ' 

"I  think  she  expected  me  to  do  it,"  said  Susy 
with  a  touch  of  asperity.  There  were  moments 
when  her  duty  to  Clarissa  weighed  on  her  some 
what  heavily;  whenever  she  went  off  alone  with 

53 


54        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Nick  she  was  pursued  by  the  vision  of  a  little  fig 
ure  waving  wistful  farewells  from  the  balcony. 

"Ah,  that's  like  Ellie:  you  might  have  known 
she  'd  get  an  equivalent  when  she  lent  you  all  this. 
But  I  don't  believe  she  thought  you'd  be  so  con 
scientious  about  it." 

Susy  considered.  "I  don't  suppose  she  did; 
and  perhaps  I  shouldn't  have  been,  a  year  ago. 
But  you  see" — she  hesitated — "Nick's  so  awfully 
good:  it's  made  me  look  at  a  lot  of  things  dif 
ferently.  ..." 

"Oh,  hang  Nick's  goodness!  It's  happiness 
that's  done  it,  my  dear.  You're  just  one  of  the 
people  with  whom  it  happens  to  agree." 

Susy,  leaning  back,  scrutinized  between  her 
lashes  his  crooked  ironic  face. 

"What  is  it  that's  agreeing  with  you,  Streffy? 
I've  never  seen  you  so  human.  You  must  be  get 
ting  an  outrageous  price  for  the  villa." 

Strefford  laughed  and  clapped  his  hand  on  his 
breast-pocket.  "I  should  be  an  ass  not  to:  I've 
got  a  wire  here  saying  they  must  have  it  for  an 
other  month  at  any  price. ' ' 

"What  luck!  I'm  so  glad.  ^Who  are  they,  by 
the  way?" 

He  drew  himself  up  out  of  the  long  chair  in 
which  he  was  disjointedly  lounging,  and  looked 
down  at  her  with  a  smile.  "Another  couple  of 
love-sick  idiots  like  you  and  Nick.  ...  I  say,  be 
fore  I  spend  it  all  let's  go  out  and  buy  something 
ripping  for  Clarissa." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        55 

The  days  passed  so  quickly  and  radiantly  that, 
but  for  her  concern  for  Clarissa,  Susy  would 
hardly  have  been  conscious  of  her  hostess's  pro 
tracted  absence.  Mrs.  Vanderlyn  had  said:  "Four 
weeks  at  the  latest,"  and  the  four  weeks  were  over, 
and  she  had  neither  arrived  nor  written  to  explain 
her  non-appearance.  She  had,  in  fact,  given  no 
sign  of  life  since  h^r  departure,  save  in  the  shape 
of  a  post-card  which  had  reached  Clarissa  the  day 
after  the  Lansings'  arrival,  and  in  which  Mrs. 
Vanderlyn  instructed  her  child  to  be  awfully  good, 
and  not  to  forget  to  feed  the  mongoose.  Susy 
noticed  that  this  missive  had  been  posted  in  Milan. 

She  communicated  her  apprehensions  to  Stref- 
ford.  "I  don't  trust  that  green-eyed  nurse.  She's 
forever  with  the  younger  gondolier;  and  Cla 
rissa's  so  awfully  sharp.  I  don't  see  why  Ellie 
hasn't  come:  she  was  due  last  Monday." 

Her  companion  laughed,  and  something  in  the 
sound  of  his  laugh  suggested  that  he  probably 
knew  as  much  of  Ellie 's  movements  as  she  did,  if 
not  more.  The  sense  of  disgust  which  the  subject 
always  roused  in  her  made  her  look  away  quickly 
from  his  tolerant  smile.  She  would  have  given  the 
world,  at  that  moment,  to  have  been  free  to  tell 
Nick  what  she  had  learned  on  the  night  of  their 
arrival,  and  then  to  have  gone  away  with  him,  no 
matter  where.  But  there  was  Clarissa — ! 

To  fortify  herself  against  the  temptation,  she 
resolutely  fixed  her  thoughts  on  her  husband.  Of 
Nick's  beatitude  there  could  be  no  doubt.  He 


adored  her,  he  revelled  in  Venice,  he  rejoiced  in 
his  work ;  and  concerning  the  quality  of  that  work 
her  judgment  was  as  confident  as  her  heart.  She 
still  doubted  if  he  would  ever  earn  a  living  by  what 
he  wrote,  but  she  no  longer  doubted  that  he  would 
write  something  remarkable.  The  mere  fact  that 
he  was  engaged  on  a  philosophic  romance,  and  not 
a  mere  novel,  seemed  the  proof  of  an  intrinsic 
superiority.  And  if  she  had  mistrusted  her  im 
partiality  Strefford's  approval  would  have  reas 
sured  her.  Among  their  friends  Strefford  passed 
as  an  authority  on  such  matters :  in  summing  him 
up  his  eulogists  always  added:  "And  you  know 
he  writes. ' '  As  a  matter  of  fact,  the  paying  public 
had  remained  cold  to  his  few  published  pages ;  but 
he  lived  among  the  kind  of  people  who  confuse 
taste  with  talent,  and  are  impressed  by  the  most 
artless  attempts  at  literary  expression;  and 
though  he  affected  to  disdain  their  judgment,  and 
his  own  efforts,  Susy  knew  he  was  not  sorry  to 
have  it  said  of  him:  "Oh,  if  only  Streffy  had 
chosen — !" 

Strefford 's  approval  of  the  philosophic  ro 
mance  convinced  her  that  it  had  been  worth  while 
staying  in  Venice  for  Nick's  sake;  and  if  only 
Ellie  would  come  back,  and  carry  off  Clarissa  to 
St.  Moritz  or  Deauville,  the  disagreeable  episode 
on  which  their  happiness  was  based  would  vanish 
like  a  cloud,  and  leave  them  to  complete  enjoy 
ment. 

Ellie  did  not  come;  but  the  Mortimer  Hickses 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        57 

did,  and  Nick  Lansing  was  assailed  by  the  scruples 
his  wife  had  foreseen.  Strefford,  coming  back  one 
evening  from  the  Lido,  reported  having  recognized 
the  huge  outline  of  the  Ibis  among  the  pleasure 
craft  of  the  outer  harbour ;  and  the  very  next  eve 
ning,  as  the  guests  of  Palazzo  Vanderlyn  were 
sipping  their  ices  at  Florian's,  the  Hickses  loomed 
up  across  the  Piazza. 

Susy  pleaded  in  vain  with  her  husband  in  de 
fence  of  his  privacy.  "Kemember  you're  here  to 
write,  dearest;  it's  your  duty  not  to  let  any  one 
interfere  with  that.  Why  shouldn't  we  tell  them 
we're  just  leaving?" 

"Because  it's  no  use:  we're  sure  to  be  always 
meeting  them.  And  besides,  I'll  be  hanged  if  I'm 
going  to  shirk  the  Hickses.  I  spent  five  whole 
months  on  the  Ibis,  and  if  they  bored  me  occasion 
ally,  India  didn't.** 

"We'll  make  them  take  us  to  Aquileia  anyhow, " 
said  Strefford  philosophically;  and  the  next  mo 
ment  the  Hickses  were  bearing  down  on  the  de 
fenceless  trio. 

They  presented  a  formidable  front,  not  only  be 
cause  of  their  mere  physical  bulk — Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hicks  were  equally  and  majestically  three-dimen 
sional — but  because  they  never  moved  abroad 
without  the  escort  of  two  private  secretaries  (one 
for  the  foreign  languages),  Mr.  Hicks 's  doctor,  a 
maiden  lady  known  as  Eldoradder  Tooker,  who 
was  Mrs.  Hicks 's  cousin  and  stenographer,  and 
finally  their  daughter,  Coral  Hicks. 


58        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Coral  Hicks,  when  Susy  had  last  encountered 
the  party,  had  been  a  fat  spectacled  school-girl, 
always  lagging  behind  her  parents,  with  a  re 
luctant  poodle  in  her  wake.  Now  the  poodle  had 
gone,  and  his  mistress  led  the  procession.  The  fat 
school-girl  had  changed  into  a  young  lady  of  com 
pact  if  not  graceful  outline;  a  long-handled  eye 
glass  had  replaced  the  spectacles,  and  through  it, 
instead  of  a  sullen  glare,  Miss  Coral  Hicks  pro 
jected  on  the  world  a  glance  at  once  confident  and 
critical.  She  looked  so  strong  and  so  assured  that 
Susy,  taking  her  measure  in  a  flash,  saw  that  her 
position  at  the  head  of  the  procession  was  not 
fortuitous,  and  murmured  inwardly:  " Thank 
goodness  she's  not  pretty  too!" 

If  she  was  not  pretty,  she  was  well-dressed ;  and 
if  she  was  overeducated,  she  seemed  capable,  as 
Strefford  had  suggested,  of  carrying  off  even  this 
crowning  disadvantage.  At  any  rate,  she  was 
above  disguising  it;  and  before  the  whole  party 
had  been  seated  five  minutes  in  front  of  a  fresh 
supply  of  ices  (with  Eldorada  and  the  secretaries 
at  a  table  slightly  in  the  background)  she  had 
taken  up  with  Nick  the  question  of  exploration  in 
Mesopotamia. 

''Queer  child,  Coral,"  he  said  to  Susy  that  night 
as  they  smoked  a  last  cigarette  on  their  balcony. 
"She  told  me  this  afternoon  that  she'd  remem 
bered  lots  of  things  she  heard  me  say  in  India. 
I  thought  at  the  time  that  she  cared  only  for  cara 
mels  and  picture-puzzles,  but  it  seems  she  was 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        59 

listening  to  everything,  and  reading  all  the  books 
she  could  lay  her  hands  on ;  and  she  got  so  bitten 
with  Oriental  archaeology  that  she  took  a  course 
last  year  at  Bryn  Mawr.  She  means  to  go  to  Bag 
dad  next  spring,  and  back  by  the  Persian  plateau 
and  Turkestan." 

Susy  laughed  luxuriously :  she  was  sitting  with 
her  hand  in  Nick's,  while  the  late  moon — theirs 
again — rounded  its  orange-coloured  glory  above 
the  belfry  of  San  Giorgio. 

*  *  Poor  Coral !   How  dreary — ' '  Susy  murmured. 

" Dreary?  Why?  A  trip  like  that  is  about  as 
well  worth  doing  as  anything  I  know." 

"Oh,  I  meant:  dreary  to  do  it  without  you  or 
me,"  she  laughed,  getting  up  lazily  to  go  indoors. 
A  broad  band  of  moonlight,  dividing  her  room 
into  two  shadowy  halves,  lay  on  the  painted  Vene 
tian  bed  with  its  folded-back  sheet,  its  old  damask 
coverlet  and  lace-edged  pillows.  She  felt  the 
warmth  of  Nick's  enfolding  arm  and  lifted  her 
face  to  his. 

The  Hickses  retained  the  most  tender  memory 
of  Nick's  sojourn  on  the  Ibis,  and  Susy,  moved  by 
their  artless  pleasure  in  meeting  him  again,  was 
glad  he  had  not  followed  her  advice  and  tried  to 
elude  them.  She  had  always  admired  Strefford's 
ruthless  talent  for  using  and  discarding  the  human 
material  in  his  path,  but  now  she  began  to  hope 
that  Nick  would  not  remember  her  suggestion  that 
he  should  mete  out  that  measure  to  the  Hickses. 
Even  if  it  had  been  less  pleasant  to  have  a  big 


60        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

yacht  at  their  door  during  the  long  golden  days 
and  the  nights  of  silver  fire,  the  Hickses'  admira 
tion  for  Nick  would  have  made  Susy  suffer  them 
gladly.  She  even  began  to  be  aware  of  a  growing 
liking  for  them,  a  liking  inspired  by  the  very 
characteristics  that  would  once  have  provoked  her 
disapproval.  Susy  had  had  plenty  of  training  in 
liking  common  people  with  big  purses;  in  such 
cases  her  stock  of  allowances  and  extenuations 
was  inexhaustible.  But  they  had  to  be  successful 
common  people;  and  the  trouble  was  that  the 
Hickses,  judged  by  her  standards,  were  failures. 
It  was  not  only  that  they  were  ridiculous;  so, 
heaven  knew,  were  many  of  their  rivals.  But  the 
Hickses  were  both  ridiculous  and  unsuccessful. 
They  had  consistently  resisted  the  efforts  of  the 
experienced  advisers  who  had  first  descried  them 
on  the  horizon  and  tried  to  help  them  upward. 
They  were  always  taking  up  the  wrong  people, 
giving  the  wrong  kind  of  party,  and  spending  mil 
lions  on  things  that  nobody  who  mattered  cared 
about.  They  all  believed  passionately  in  "move 
ments"  and  "causes"  and  "ideals,"  and  were  al 
ways  attended  by  the  exponents  of  their  latest  be 
liefs,  always  asking  you  to  hear  lectures  by  hag 
gard  women  in  peplums,  and  having  their  por 
traits  painted  by  wild  people  who  never  turned 
out  to  be  the  fashion. 

All  this  would  formerly  have  increased  Susy's 
contempt;  now  she  found  herself  liking  the 
Hickses  most  for  their  failings.  She  was  touched 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON         61 

by  their  simple  good  faith,  their  isolation  in  the 
midst  of  all  their  queer  apostles  and  parasites, 
their  way  of  drifting  about  an  alien  and  indif 
ferent  world  in  a  compactly  clinging  group  of 
which  Eldorada  Tooker,  the  doctor  and  the  two 
secretaries  formed  the  outer  fringe,  and  by  their 
view  of  themselves  as  a  kind  of  collective  re-incar 
nation  of  some  past  state  of  princely  culture,  sym 
bolised  for  Mrs.  Hicks  in  what  she  called  "the 
court  of  the  Benaissance."  Eldorada,  of  course, 
was  their  chief  prophetess ;  but  even  the  intensely 
"bright"  and  modern  young  secretaries,  Mr. 
Beck  and  Mr.  Buttles,  showed  a  touching  tendency 
to  share  her  view,  and  spoke  of  Mr.  Hicks  as  "pro 
moting  art,"  in  the  spirit  of  Pandolfino  celebrat 
ing  the  munificence  of  the  Medicis. 

"I'm  getting  really  fond  of  the  Hickses;  I  be 
lieve  I  should  be  nice  to  them  even  if  they  were 
staying  at  Danieli's,"  Susy  said  to  Strefford. 

"And  even  if  you  owned  the  yacht?"  he  an 
swered;  and  for  once  his  banter  struck  her  as 
beside  the  point. 

The  Ibis  carried  them,  during  the  endless  June 
days,  far  and  wide  along  the  enchanted  shores; 
they  roamed  among  the  Euganeans,  they  saw 
Aquileia  and  Pomposa  and  Bavenna.  Their  hosts 
would  gladly  have  taken  them  farther,  across  the 
Adriatic  and  on  into  the  golden  network  of  the 
Aegean;  but  Susy  resisted  this  infraction  of 
Nick's  rules,  and  he  himself  preferred  to  stick  to 
his  task.  Only  now  he  wrote  in  the  early  morn- 


62        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ings,  so  that  on  most  days  they  conld  set  out  be 
fore  noon  and  steam  back  late  to  the  low  fringe  of 
lights  on  the  lagoon.  His  work  continued  to  pro 
gress,  and  as  page  was  added  to  page  Susy  ob 
scurely  but  surely  perceived  that  each  one  cor 
responded  with  a  hidden  secretion  of  energy,  the 
gradual  forming  within  him  of  something  that 
might  eventually  alter  both  their  lives.  In  what 
sense  she  could  not  conjecture:  she  merely  felt 
that  the  fact  of  his  having  chosen  a  job  and  stuck 
to  it,  if  only  through  a  few  rosy  summer  weeks, 
had  already  given  him  a  new  way  of  saying  "  Yes' ' 
and  "No." 


VII 


OF  some  new  ferment  at  work  in  him  Nick 
Lansing  himself  was  equally  aware.  He  was 
a  better  judge  of  the  book  he  was  trying  to  write 
than  either  Susy  or  Strefford;  he  knew  its  weak 
nesses,  its  treacheries,  its  tendency  to  slip  through 
his  fingers  just  as  he  thought  his  grasp  tightest; 
but  he  knew  also  lihat  at  the  very  moment  when 
it  seemed  to  have  failed  him  it  would  suddenly  be 
back,  beating  its  loud  wings  in  his  face. 

He  had  no  delusions  as  to  its  commercial  value, 
and  had  winced  more  than  he  triumphed  when 
Susy  produced  her  allusion  to  Marius.  His  book 
was  to  be  called  The  Pageant  of  Alexander.  His 
imagination  had  been  enchanted  by  the  idea  of 
picturing  the  young  conqueror's  advance  through 
the  fabulous  landscapes  of  Asia :  he  liked  writing 
descriptions,  and  vaguely  felt  that  under  the  guise 
of  fiction  he  could  develop  his  theory  of  Oriental 
influences  in  Western  art  at  the  expense  of  less 
learning  than  if  he  had  tried  to  put  his  ideas  into 
an  essay.  He  knew  enough  of  his  subject  to  know 
that  he  did  not  know  enough  to  write  about  it ;  but 
he  consoled  himself  by  remembering  that  Wilhelm 
Meister  has  survived  many  weighty  volumes  on 
aesthetics;  and  between  his  moments  of  self-dis- 

63 


64        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

trust  he  took  himself  at  Susy's  valuation,  and 
found  an  unmixed  joy  in  his  task. 

Never — no,  never  I — had  he  been  so  boundlessly, 
so  confidently  happy.  His  hack-work  had  given 
him  the  habit  of  application,  and  now  habit  wore 
the  glow  of  inspiration.  His  previous  literary 
ventures  had  been  timid  and  tentative :  if  this  one 
was  growing  and  strengthening  on  his  hands,  it 
must  be  because  the  conditions  were  so  different. 
He  was  at  ease,  he  was  secure,  he  was  satisfied; 
and  he  had  also,  for  the  first  time  since  his  early 
youth,  before  his  mother 's  death,  the  sense  of  hav 
ing  some  one  to  look  after,  some  one  who  was  his 
own  particular  care,  and  to  whom  he  was  answer 
able  for  himself  and  his  actions,  as  he  had  never 
felt  himself  answerable  to  the  hurried  and  indif 
ferent  people  among  whom  he  had  chosen  to  live. 

Susy  had  the  same  standards  as  these  people : 
she  spoke  their  language,  though  she  understood 
others,  she  required  their  pleasures  if  she  did  not 
revere  their  gods.  But  from  the  moment  that  she 
had  become  his  property  he  had  built  up  in  himself 
a  conception  of  her  answering  to  some  deep- 
seated  need  of  veneration.  She  was  his,  he  had 
chosen  her,  she  had  taken  her  place  in  the  long 
line  of  Lansing  women  who  had  been  loved,  hon 
oured,  and  probably  deceived,  by  bygone  Lansing 
men.  He  didn't  pretend  to  understand  the  logic 
of  it ;  but  the  fact  that  she  was  his  wife  gave  pur 
pose  and  continuity  to  his  scattered  impulses,  and 
a  mysterious  glow  of  consecration  to  his  task. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        65 

Once  or  twice,  in  the  first  days  of  his  marriage, 
he  had  asked  himself  with  a  slight  shiver  what 
would  happen  if  Susy  should  begin  to  bore  him. 
The  thing  had  happened  to  him  with  other  women 
as  to  whom  his  first  emotions  had  not  differed  in 
intensity  from  those  she  inspired.  The  part  he 
had  played  in  his  previous  love-affairs  might  in 
deed  have  been  summed  up  in  the  memorable  line : 
"I  am  the  hunter  and  the  prey,"  for  he  had  in 
variably  ceased  to  be  the  first  only  to  regard  him 
self  as  the  second.  This  experience  had  never 
ceased  to  cause  him  the  liveliest  pain,  since  his 
sympathy  for  his  pursuer  was  only  less  keen  than 
his  commiseration  for  himself;  but  as  he  was  al 
ways  a  little  sorrier  for  himself,  he  had  always 
ended  by  distancing  the  pursuer. 

All  these  pre-natal  experiences  now  seemed  ut 
terly  inapplicable  to  the  new  man  he  had  become. 
He  could  not  imagine  being  bored  by  Susy — or 
trying  to  escape  from  her  if  he  were.  He  could 
not  think  of  her  as  an  enemy,  or  even  as  an  ac 
complice,  since  accomplices  are  potential  enemies : 
she  was  some  one  with  whom,  by  some  unheard-of 
miracle,  joys  above  the  joys  of  friendship  were  to 
be  tasted,  but  who,  even  through  these  fleeting 
ecstasies,  remained  simply  and  securely  his  friend. 

These  new  feelings  did  not  affect  his  general 
attitude  toward  life:  they  merely  confirmed  his 
faith  in  its  ultimate  "jolliness."  Never  had  he 
more  thoroughly  enjoyed  the  things  he  had  always 
enjoyed.  A  good  dinner  had  never  been  as  good 


66        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

to  him,  a  beautiful  sunset  as  beautiful;  he  still 
rejoiced  in  the  fact  that  he  appreciated  both  with 
an  equal  acuity.  He  was  as  proud  as  ever  of 
Susy's  cleverness  and  freedom  from  prejudice: 
she  couldn't  be  too  "modern'*  for  him  now  that 
she  was  his.  He  shared  to  the  full  her  passionate 
enjoyment  of  the  present,  and  all  her  feverish 
eagerness  to  make  it  last.  He  knew  when  she  was 
thinking  of  ways  of  extending  their  golden  oppor 
tunity,  and  he  secretly  thought  with  her,  wonder 
ing  what  new  means  they  could  devise.  He  was 
thankful  that  Ellie  Yanderlyn  was  still  absent,  and 
began  to  hope  they  might  have  the  palace  to  them 
selves  for  the  remainder  of  the  summer.  If  they 
did,  he  would  have  time  to  finish  his  book,  and 
Susy  to  lay  up  a  little  interest  on  their  wedding 
cheques ;  and  thus  their  enchanted  year  might  con 
ceivably  be  prolonged  to  two. 

Late  as  the  season  was,  their  presence  and 
Strefford's  in  Venice  had  already  drawn  thither 
several  wandering  members  of  their  set.  It  was 
characteristic  of  these  indifferent  but  aggultina- 
tive  people  that  they  could  never  remain  long 
parted  from  each  other  without  a  dim  sense  of  un 
easiness.  Lansing  was  familiar  with  the  feeling. 
He  had  known  slight  twinges  of  it  himself,  and 
had  often  ministered  to  its  qualms  in  others.  It 
was  hardly  stronger  than  the  faint  gnawing  which 
recalls  the  tea-hour  to  one  who  has  lunched  well 
and  is  sure  of  dining  as  abundantly ;  but  it  gave  a 
purpose  to  the  purposeless,  and  helped  many  hesi- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        67 

tating  spirits  over  the  annual  difficulty  of  deciding 
between  Deauville  and  St.  Moritz,  Biarritz  and 
Capri. 

Nick  was  not  surprised  to  learn  that  it  was  be 
coming  the  fashion,  that  summer,  to  pop  down  to 
Venice  and  take  a  look  at  the  Lansings.  Streffy 
had  set  the  example,  and  Streffy's  example  was 
always  followed.  And  then  Susy's  marriage  was 
still  a  subject  of  sympathetic  speculation.  People 
knew  the  story  of  the  wedding  cheques,  and  were 
interested  in  seeing  how  long  they  could  be  made 
to  last.  It  was  going  to  be  the  thing,  that  year, 
to  help  prolong  the  honey-moon  by  pressing  houses 
on  the  adventurous  couple.  Before  June  was  over 
a  band  of  friends  were  basking  with  the  Lansings 
on  the  Lido. 

Nick  found  himself  unexpectedly  disturbed  by 
their  arrival.  To  avoid  comment  and  banter  he 
put  his  book  aside  and  forbade  Susy  to  speak  of 
it,  explaining  to  her  that  he  needed  an  interval  of 
rest.  His  wife  instantly  and  exaggeratedly 
adopted  this  view,  guarding  him  from  the  temp 
tation  to  work  as  jealously  as  she  had  discour 
aged  him  from  idling ;  and  he  was  careful  not  to 
let  her  find  out  that  the  change  in  his  habits  coin 
cided  with  his  having  reached  a  difficult  point  in 
his  book.  But  though  he  was  not  sorry  to  stop 
writing  he  found  himself  unexpectedly  oppressed 
by  the  weight  of  his  leisure.  For  the  first  time 
communal  dawdling  had  lost  its  charm  for  him; 
not  because  his  fellow  dawdlers  were  less  con- 


68        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

genial  than  of  old,  but  because  in  the  interval  he 
had  known  something  so  immeasurably  better. 
He  had  always  felt  himself  to  be  the  superior  of 
his  habitual  associates,  but  now  the  advantage  was 
too  great:  really,  in  a  sense,  it  was  hardly  fair 
to  them. 

He  had  flattered  himself  that  Susy  would  share 
this  feeling ;  but  he  perceived  with  annoyance  that 
the  arrival  of  their  friends  heightened  her  anima 
tion.  It  was  as  if  the  inward  glow  which  had  given 
her  a  new  beauty  were  now  refracted  upon  her  by 
the  presence  of  the  very  people  they  had  come  to 
Venice  to  avoid. 

Lansing  was  vaguely  irritated;  and  when  he 
asked  her  how  she  liked  being  with  their  old  crowd 
again  his  irritation  was  increased  by  her  answer 
ing  with  a  laugh  that  she  only  hoped  the  poor 
dears  didn't  see  too  plainly  how  they  bored  her. 
The  patent  insincerity  of  the  reply  was  a  shock 
to  Lansing.  He  knew  that  Susy  was  not  really 
bored,  and  he  understood  that  she  had  simply 
guessed  his  feelings  and  instinctively  adopted 
them:  that  henceforth  she  was  always  going  to 
think  as  he  thought.  To  confirm  this  fear  he  said 
carelessly:  "Oh,  all  the  same,  it's  rather  jolly 
knocking  about  with  them  again  for  a  bit;"  and 
she  answered  at  once,  and  with  equal  conviction: 
1 1  Yes,  isn  't  it  T  The  old  darlings— aU  the  same ! ' ' 

A  fear  of  the  future  again  laid  its  cold  touch 
on  Lansing.  Susy's  independence  and  self-suf 
ficiency  had  been  among  her  chief  attractions;  if 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        69 

she  were  to  turn  into  an  echo  their  delicious  duet 
ran  the  risk  of  becoming  the  dullest  of  monologues. 
He  forgot  that  five  minutes  earlier  he  had  resented 
her  being  glad  to  see  their  friends,  and  for  a  mo 
ment  he  found  himself  leaning  dizzily  over  that 
insoluble  riddle  of  the  sentimental  life :  that  to  be 
differed  with  is  exasperating,  and  to  be  agreed 
with  monotonous. 

Once  more  he  began  to  wonder  if  he  were  not 
fundamentally  unfitted  for  the  married  state ;  and 
was  saved  from  despair  only  by  remembering  that 
Susy's  subjection  to  his  moods  was  not  likely  to 
last  But  even  then  it  never  occurred  to  him  to 
reflect  that  his  apprehensions  were  superfluous, 
since  their  tie  was  avowedly  a  temporary  one.  Of 
the  special  understanding  on  which  their  marriage 
had  been  based  not  a  trace  remained  in  his 
thoughts  of  her ;  the  idea  that  he  or  she  might  ever 
renounce  each  other  for  their  mutual  good  had 
long  since  dwindled  to  the  ghost  of  an  old  joke. 

It  was  borne  in  on  him,  after  a  week  or  two  of 
unbroken  sociability,  that  of  all  his  old  friends  it 
was  the  Mortimer  Hickses  who  bored  him  the 
least.  The  Hickses  had  left  the  Ibis  for  an  apart 
ment  in  a  vast  dilapidated  palace  near  the 
Canareggio.  They  had  hired  the  apartment  from 
a  painter  (one  of  their  newest  discoveries),  and 
they  put  up  philosophically  with  the  absence  of 
modern  conveniences  in  order  to  secure  the  ines 
timable  advantage  of  "atmosphere."  In  this 
privileged  air  they  gathered  about  them  their 


70        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

usual  mixed  company  of  quiet  studious  people  and 
noisy  exponents  of  new  theories,  themselves  to 
tally  unconscious  of  the  disparity  between  their 
different  guests,  and  beamingly  convinced  that  at 
last  they  were  seated  at  the  source  of  wisdom. 

in  old  days  Lansing  would  have  got  half  an 
hour's  amusement,  followed  by  a  long  evening  of 
boredom,  from  the  sight  of  Mrs.  Hicks,  vast  and 
jewelled,  seated  between  a  quiet-looking  professor 
of  archseology  and  a  large-browed  composer,  or 
the  high  priest  of  a  new  dance-step,  while  Mr. 
Hicks,  beaming  above  his  vast  white  waistcoat, 
saw  to  it  that  the  champagne  flowed  more  abun 
dantly  than  the  talk,  and  the  bright  young  secre 
taries  industriously  "kept  up"  with  the  dizzy 
cross-current  of  prophecy  and  erudition.  But 
a  change  had  come  over  Lansing.  Hitherto  it  was 
in  contrast  to  his  own  friends  that  the  Hickses 
had  seemed  most  insufferable ;  now  it  was  as  an  es 
cape  from  these  same  friends  that  they  had  become 
not  only  sympathetic  but  even  interesting.  It  was 
something,  after  all,  to  be  with  people  who  did 
not  regard  Venice  simply  as  affording  exceptional 
opportunities  for  bathing  and  adultery,  but  who 
were  reverently  if  confusedly  aware  that  they 
were  in  the  presence  of  something  unique  and 
ineffable,  and  determined  to  make  the  utmost  of 
their  privilege. 

"After  all,"  he  said  to  himself  one  evening,  as 
his  eyes  wandered,  with  somewhat  of  a  con 
valescent's  simple  joy,  from  one  to  another  of 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        71 

their  large  confiding  faces,  "  after  all,  they  Ve  got 
a  religion.  ..."  The  phrase  struck  Mm,  in  the 
moment  of  using  it,  as  indicating  a  new  element 
in  his  own  state  of  mind,  and  as  being,  in  fact, 
the  key  to  his  new  feeling  about  the  Hickses 
Their  muddled  ardour  for  great  things  was  re 
lated  to  his  own  new  view  of  the  universe:  the 
people  who  felt,  however  dimly,  the  wonder  and 
weight  of  life  must  ever  after  be  nearer  to  him 
than  those  to  whom  it  was  estimated  solely  by 
one's  balance  at  the  bank.  He  supposed,  on  reflex 
ion,  that  that  was  what  he  meant  when  he  thought 
of  the  Hickses  as  having  "a  religion"  .... 

A  few  days  later,  his  well-being  was  unexpect 
edly  disturbed  by  the  arrival  of  Fred  Gillow. 
Lansing  had  always  felt  a  tolerant  liking  for  Gil- 
low,  a  large  smiling  silent  young  man  with  an 
intense  and  serious  desire  to  miss  nothing  attain 
able  by  one  of  his  fortune  and  standing.  What  use 
he  made  of  his  experiences,  Lansing,  who  had  al 
ways  gone  into  his  own  modest  adventures  rather 
thoroughly,  had  never  been  able  to  guess ;  but  he 
had  always  suspected  the  prodigal  Fred  of  being 
no  more  than  a  well-disguised  looker-on.  Now 
for  the  first  time  he  began  to  view  him  with  an 
other  eye.  The  Gillows  were,  in  fact,  the  one  un 
easy  point  in  Nick's  conscience.  He  and  Susy, 
from  the  first,  had  talked  of  them  less  than  of  any 
other  members  of  their  group:  they  had  tacitly 
avoided  the  name  from  the  day  on  which  Susy  had 
come  to  Lansing's  lodgings  to  say  that  Ursula  Gil- 


72         THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

low  had  asked  her  to  renounce  him,  till  that  other 
day,  just  before  their  marriage,  when  she  had 
met  him  with  the  rapturous  cry :  "Here's  our  first 
wedding  present!  Such  a  thumping  big  cheque 
from  Fred  and  Ursula!" 

Plenty  of  sympathizing  people  were  ready, 
Lansing  knew,  to  tell  him  just  what  had  happened 
in  the  interval  between  those  two  dates;  but  he 
had  taken  care  not  to  ask.  He  had  even  affected 
an  initiation  so  complete  that  the  friends  who 
burned  to  enlighten  him  were  discouraged  by  his 
so  obviously  knowing  more  than  they ;  and  gradu 
ally  he  had  worked  himself  around  to  their  view, 
and  had  taken  it  for  granted  that  he  really  did. 

Now  he  perceived  that  he  knew  nothing  at  all, 
and  that  the  "Hullo,  old  Fred!"  with  which  Susy 
hailed  Gillow's  arrival  might  be  either  the  usual 
tribal  welcome — since  they  were  all  * '  old, ' '  and  all 
nick-named,  in  their  private  jargon — or  a  greeting 
that  concealed  inscrutable  depths  of  complicity. 

Susy  was  visibly  glad  to  see  Gillow ;  but  she  was 
glad  of  everything  just  then,  and  so  glad  to  show 
her  gladness!  The  fact  disarmed  her  husband 
and  made  him  ashamed  of  his  uneasiness.  "You 
ought  to  have  thought  this  all  out  sooner,  or  else 
you  ought  to  chuck  thinking  of  it  at  all,"  was 
the  sound  but  ineffectual  advice  he  gave  himself 
on  the  day  after  Gillow's  arrival ;  and  immediately 
set  to  work  to  rethink  the  whole  matter. 

Fred  Gillow  showed  no  consciousness  of  dis 
turbing  any  one's  peace  of  mind.  Day  after  day 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        73 

he  sprawled  for  hours  on  the  Lido  sands,  his  arms 
folded  under  his  head,  listening  to  Streffy's  non 
sense  and  watching  Susy  between  sleepy  lids ;  but 
he  betrayed  no  desire  to  see  her  alone,  or  to  draw 
her  into  talk  apart  from  the  others.  More  than 
ever  he  seemed  content  to  be  the  gratified  spec 
tator  of  a  costly  show  got  up  for  his  private  en 
tertainment.  It  was  not  until  he  heard  her,  one 
morning,  grumble  a  little  at  the  increasing  heat 
and  the  menace  of  mosquitoes,  that  he  said,  quite 
as  if  they  had  talked  the  matter  over  long  before, 
and  finally  settled  it :  "  The  moor  will  be  ready  any 
time  after  the  first  of  August." 

Nick  fancied  that  Susy  coloured  a  little,  and 
drew  herself  up  more  defiantly  than  usual  as  she 
sent  a  pebble  skimming  across  the  dying  ripples  at 
their  feet. 

"You'll  be  a  lot  cooler  in  Scotland,"  Fred 
added,  with  what,  for  him,  was  an  unusual  effort 
at  explicitness. 

"Oh,  shall  we!"  she  retorted  gaily;  and  added 
with  an  air  of  mystery  and  importance,  pivoting 
about  on  her  high  heels:  "Nick's  got  work  to  do 
here.  It  will  probably  keep  us  all  summer." 

"Work?  Eot!  You'll  die  of  the  smells."  Gil- 
low  stared  perplexedly  skyward  from  under  his 
tilted  hat-brim ;  and  then  brought  out,  as  from  the 
depth  of  a  rankling  grievance:  "I  thought  it  was 
all  understood." 

"Why,"  Nick  asked  his  wife  that  night,  as  they 


74        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

re-entered  Ellie's  cool  drawing-room  after  a  late 
dinner  at  the  Lido,  "did  Gillow  think  it  was  un 
derstood  that  we  were  going  to  his  moor  in  Au 
gust?"  He  was  conscious  of  the  oddness  of 
speaking  of  their  friend  by  Ms  surname,  and 
reddened  at  his  blunder. 

Susy  had  let  her  lace  cloak  slide  to  her  feet,  and 
stood  before  hi™  in  the  faintly-lit  room,  slim  and 
shimmering-white  through  black  transparencies. 

She  raised  her  eyebrows  carelessly.  '  *  I  told  you 
long  ago  he'd  asked  us  there  for  August." 

"You  didn't  tell  me  you'd  accepted." 

She  smiled  as  if  he  had  said  something  as  simple 
as  Fred.  "I  accepted  everything — from  every 
body!" 

What  could  he  answer?  It  was  the  very  prin 
ciple  on  which  their  bargain  had  been  struck.  And 
if  he  were  to  say:  "Ah,  but  this  is  different,  be 
cause  I'm  jealous  of  Gillow,"  what  light  would 
such  an  answer  shed  on  his  past?  The  time  for 
being  jealous — if  so  antiquated  an  attitude  were 
on  any  ground  defensible — would  have  been  before 
his  marriage,  and  before  the  acceptance  of  the 
bounties  which  had  helped  to  make  it  possible. 
He  wondered  a  little  now  that  in  those  days  such 
scruples  had  not  troubled  him.  His  inconsistency 
irritated  him,  and  increased  his  irritation  against 
Gillow.  "I  suppose  he  thinks  he  owns  us!"  he 
grumbled  inwardly. 

He  had  thrown  himself  into  an  armchair,  and 
Susy,  advancing  across  the  shining  arabesques  of 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        75 

the  floor,  slid  down  at  his  feet,  pressed  her  slen 
der  length  against  him,  and  whispered  with  lifted 
face  and  lips  close  to  his:  "We  needn't  ever  go 
anywhere  you  don't  want  to."  For  once  her  sub 
mission  was  sweet,  and  folding  her  close  he  whis 
pered  back  through  his  kiss :  "Not  there,  then." 

In  her  response  to  his  embrace  he  felt  the  ac 
quiescence  of  her  whole  happy  self  in  whatever 
future  he  decided  on,  if  only  it  gave  them  enough 
of  such  moments  as  this;  and  as  they  held  each 
other  fast  in  silence  his  doubts  and  distrust  began 
to  seem  like  a  silly  injustice. 

"Let  us  stay  here  as  long  as  ever  Ellie  will  let 
us,"  he  said,  as  if  the  shadowy  walls  and  shining 
floors  were  a  magic  boundary  drawn  about  his 
happiness. 

She  murmured  her  assent  and  stood  up,  stretch 
ing  her  sleepy  arm  above  her  shoulders.  "How 
dreadfully  late  it  is.  ...  Will  you  unhook  me? 
.  .  .  Oh,  there's  a  telegram." 

She  picked  it  up  from  the  table,  and  tearing  it 
open  stared  a  moment  at  the  message.  "It's  from 
Ellie.  She's  coming  to-morrow." 

She  turned  to  the  window  and  strayed  out  onto 
the  balcony.  Nick  followed  her  with  enlacing  arm. 
The  canal  below  them  lay  in  moonless  shadow, 
barred  with  a  few  lingering  lights.  A  last  snatch 
of  gondola-music  came  from  far  off,  carried  up 
ward  on  a  sultry  gust 

"Dear  old  Ellie.  All  the  same  ...  I  wish  all 
this  belonged  to  you  and  me."  Susy  sighed. 


VIII 

IT  was  not  Mrs.  Vanderlyn's  fault  if,  after  her 
arrival,  her  palace  seemed  to  belong  any  less 
to  the  Lansings. 

She  arrived  in  a  mood  of  such  general  benevo 
lence  that  it  was  impossible  for  Susy,  when  they 
finally  found  themselves  alone,  to  make  her-  view 
even  her  own  recent  conduct  in  any  but  the  most 
benevolent  light. 

"I  knew  you'd  be  the  veriest  angel  about  it  all, 
darling,  because  I  knew  you'd  understand  me — 
especially  now,"  she  declared,  her  slim  hands  in 
Susy's,  her  big  eyes  (so  like  Clarissa's)  resplen 
dent  with  past  pleasures  and  future  plans. 

The  expression  of  her  confidence  was  unexpect 
edly  distasteful  to  Susy  Lansing,  who  had  never 
lent  so  cold  an  ear  to  such  warm  avowals.  She 
had  always  imagined  that  being  happy  one's  self 
made  one — as  Mrs.  Vanderlyn  appeared  to  assume 
— more  tolerant  of  the  happiness  of  others,  of 
however  doubtful  elements  composed ;  and  she  was 
almost  ashamed  of  responding  so  languidly  to  her 
friend's  outpourings.  But  she  herself  had  no  de 
sire  to  confide  her  bliss  to  Ellie;  and  why  should 
not  Ellie  observe  a  similar  reticence? 

76 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        77 

"It  was  all  so  perfect — you  see,  dearest,  I  was 
meant  to  be  happy,"  that  lady  continued,  as  if 
the  possession  of  so  unusual  a  characteristic 
singled  her  out  for  special  privileges. 

Susy,  with  a  certain  sharpness,  responded  that 
she  had  always  supposed  we  all  were. 

"Oh,  no,  dearest:  not  governesses  and  mothers- 
in-law  and  companions,  and  that  sort  of  people. 
They  wouldn't  know  how  if  they  tried.  But  you 
and  I,  darling — " 

"Oh,  I  don't  consider  myself  in  any  way  excep 
tional,"  Susy  intervened.  She  longed  to  add: 
"Not  in  your  way,  at  any  rate — "  but  a  few  min 
utes  earlier  Mrs.  Vanderlyn  had  told  her  that  the 
palace  was  at  her  disposal  for  the  rest  of  the 
summer,  and  that  she  herself  was  only  going  to 
perch  there — if  they'd  let  her? — long  enough  to 
gather  up  her  things  and  start  for  St.  Moritz. 
The  memory  of  this  announcement  had  the  effect 
of  curbing  Susy's  irony,  and  of  making  her  shift 
the  conversation  to  the  safer  if  scarcely  less  ab 
sorbing  topic  of  the  number  of  day  and  evening 
dresses  required  for  a  season  at  St.  Moritz. 

As  she  listened  to  Mrs.  Vanderlyn — no  less  elo 
quent  on  this  theme  than  on  the  other — Susy  be 
gan  to  measure  the  gulf  between  her  past  and 
present.  "This  is  the  life  I  used  to  lead;  these 
are  the  things  I  used  to  live  for, ' '  she  thought,  as 
she  stood  before  the  outspread  glories  of  Mrs. 
Vanderlyn's  wardrobe.  Not  that  she  did  not  still 
care :  she  could  not  look  at  Ellie  's  laces  and  silks 


78        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

and  furs  without  picturing  herself  in  them,  and 
wondering  by  what  new  miracle  of  management 
she  could  give  herself  the  air  of  being  dressed  by 
the  same  consummate  artists.  But  these  had  be 
come  minor  interests:  the  past  few  months  had 
given  her  a  new  perspective,  and  the  thing  that 
most  puzzled  and  disconcerted  her  about  Ellie  was 
the  fact  that  love  and  finery  and  bridge  and  din- 
ing-out  were  seemingly  all  on  the  same  plane  to 
her. 

The  inspection  of  the  dresses  lasted  a  long  time, 
and  was  marked  by  many  fluctuations  of  mood 
on  the  part  of  Mrs.  Vanderlyn,  who  passed  from 
comparative  hopefulness  to  despair  at  the  total 
inadequacy  of  her  wardrobe.  It  wouldn't  do  to 
go  to  St.  Moritz  looking  like  a  frump,  and  yet 
there  was  no  time  to  get  anything  sent  from  Paris, 
and,  whatever  she  did,  she  wasn't  going  to  show 
herself  in  any  dowdy  re-arrangements  done  at 
home.  But  suddenly  light  broke  on  her,  and  she 
clasped  her  hands  for  joy.  "Why,  Nelson '11  bring 
them — I'd  forgotten  all  about  Nelson!  There'll 
be  just  time  if  I  wire  to  him  at  once." 

"Is  Nelson  going  to  join  you  at  St.  Moritz V9 
Susy  asked,  surprised. 

"Heavens,  no!  He's  coming  here  to  pick  up 
Clarissa  and  take  her  to  some  stuffy  cure  in  Aus 
tria  with  his  mother.  It's  too  lucky:  there's  just 
time  to  telegraph  him  to  bring  my  things.  I  didn't 
mean  to  wait  for  him;  but  it  won't  delay  me  more 
than  a  day  or  two." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        79 

Susy's  heart  sank.  She  was  not  much  afraid 
of  Ellie  alone,  but  Ellie  and  Nelson  together 
formed  an  incalculable  menace.  No  one  could  tell 
what  spark  of  truth  might  flash  from  their  colli 
sion.  Susy  felt  that  she  could  deal  with  the  two 
dangers  separately  and  successively,  but  not  to 
gether  and  simultaneously. 

"But,  Ellie,  why  should  you  wait  for  Nelson? 
I'm  certain  to  find  someone  here  who's  going  to 
St.  Moritz  and  will  take  your  things  if  he  brings 
them.  It's  a  pity  to  risk  losing  your  rooms." 

This  argument  appealed  for  a  moment  to  Mrs. 
Vanderlyn.  "That's  true;  they  say  all  the  hotels 
are  jammed.  You  dear,  you're  always  so  prac 
tical!"  She  clasped  Susy  to  her  scented  bosom. 
"And  you  know,  darling,  I'm  sure  you'll  be  glad 
to  get  rid  of  me — you  and  Nick!  Oh,  don't  be 
hypocritical  and  say  ' Nonsense!'  You  see,  I  un 
derstand  ...  I  used  to  think  of  you  so  often,  you 
two  .  .  .  during  those  blessed  weeks  when  we  two 
were  alone.  ..." 

The  sudden  tears,  brimming  over  Ellie 's  lovely 
eyes,  and  threatening  to  make  the  blue  circles 
below  them  run  into  the  adjoining  carmine,  filled 
Susy  with  compunction. 

"Poor thing — oh,  poor  thing!"  she  thought; 
and  hearing  herself  called  by  Nick,  who  was  wait 
ing  to  take  her  out  for  their  usual  sunset  on  ihe 
lagoon,  she  felt  a  wave  of  pity  for  the  deluded 
creature  who  would  never  taste  that  highest  of 
imaginable  joys.  "But  all  the  same,"  Susy  re- 


80        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

fleeted,  as  she  hurried  down  to  her  husband,  "I'm 
glad  I  persuaded  her  not  to  wait  for  Nelson. ' ' 

Some  days  had  elapsed  since  Susy  and  Nick 
had  had  a  sunset  to  themselves,  and  in  the  interval 
Susy  had  once  again  learned  the  superior  quality 
of  the  sympathy  that  held  them  together.  She 
now  viewed  all  the  rest  of  life  as  no  more  than 
a  show:  a  jolly  show  which  it  would  have  been  a 
thousand  pities  to  miss,  but  which,  if  the  need 
arose,  they  could  get  up  and  leave  at  any  moment 
— provided  that  they  left  it  together. 

In  the  dusk,  while  their  prow  slid  over  in 
verted  palaces,  and  through  the  scent  of  hidden 
gardens,  she  leaned  against  him  and  murmured, 
her  mind  returning  to  the  recent  scene  with  Ellie : 
"Nick,  should  you  hate  me  dreadfully  if  I  had  no 
clothes!" 

Her  husband  was  kindling  a  cigarette,  and  the 
match  lit  up  the  grin  with  which  he  answered: 
"But,  my  dear,  have  I  ever  shown  the  slightest 
symptom — ?" 

"Oh,  rubbish!  When  a  woman  says:  'No 
clothes,'  she  means:  'Not  the  right  clothes/  " 

He  took  a  meditative  puff.  "Ah,  you've  been 
going  over  Ellie 's  finery  with  her. ' ' 

"Yes:  all  those  trunks  and  trunks  full.  And 
she  finds  she's  got  nothing  for  St.  Moritz!" 

"Of  course,"  he  murmured,  drowsy  with  con 
tent,  and  manifesting  but  a  languid  interest  in  the 
subject  of  Mrs.  Vanderlyn's  wardrobe. 

"Only  fancy — she  very  nearly  decided  to  stop 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        81 

over  for  Nelson's  arrival  next  week,  so  that  he 
might  bring  her  two  or  three  more  trunkfuls  from 
Paris.  But  mercifully  I've  managed  to  persuade 
her  that  it  would  be  foolish  to  wait. ' ' 

Susy  felt  a  hardly  perceptible  shifting  of  her 
husband's  lounging  body,  and  was  aware,  through 
all  her  watchful  tentacles,  of  a  widening  of  his 
half-closed  lids. 

"You  *  managed' — ?"  She  fancied  he  paused 
on  the  word  ironically.  '  *  But  why  ? ' ' 

«  Why— what?" 

"Why  on  earth  should  you  try  to  prevent  El- 
lie  's  waiting  for  Nelson,  if  for  once  in  her  life  she 
wants  to!" 

Susy,  conscious  of  reddening  suddenly,  drew 
back  as  though  the  leap  of  her  tell-tale  heart  might 
have  penetrated  the  blue  flannel  shoulder  against 
which  she  leaned. 

"Really,  dearest — !"  she  murmured;  but  with 
a  sudden  doggedness  he  renewed  his  "Why?" 

"Because  she's  in  such  a  fever  to  get  to  St. 
Moritz — and  in  such  a  funk  lest  the  hotel  shouldn't 
keep  her  rooms,"  Susy  somewhat  breathlessly 
produced. 

"Ah — I  see."  Nick  paused  again.  "You're  a 
devoted  friend,  aren't  you?" 

"What  an  odd  question!  There's  hardly  any-, 
<one  I've  reason  to  be  more  devoted  to  than  Ellie," 
his  wife  answered ;  and  she  felt  his  contrite  clasp 
on  her  hand. 


82        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

''Darling!  No;  nor  I — .  Or  more  grateful  to 
for  leaving  us  alone  in  this  heaven." 

Dimness  had  fallen  on  the  waters,  and  her  lifted 
lips  met  his  bending  ones. 

Trailing  late  into  dinner  that  evening,  Ellie  an 
nounced  that,  after  all,  she  had  decided  it  was 
safest  to  wait  for  Nelson. 

"I  should  simply  worry  myself  ill  if  I  weren't 
sure  of  getting  my  things,"  she  said,  in  the  tone 
of  tender  solicitude  with  which  she  always  dis 
cussed  her  own  difficulties.  "After  all,  people 
who  deny  themselves  everything  do  get  warped 
and  bitter,  don't  they?"  she  argued  plaintively, 
her  lovely  eyes  wandering  from  one  to  the  other; 
of  her  assembled  friends. 

Strefford  remarked  gravely  that  it  was  the  com 
plaint  which  had  fatally  undermined  his  own 
health;  and  in  the  laugh  that  followed  the  party 
drifted  into  the  great  vaulted  dining-room. 

"Oh,  I  don't  mind  your  laughing  at  me,  Streffy 
darling,"  his  hostess  retorted,  pressing  his  arm 
against  her  own;  and  Susy,  receiving  the  shock 
of  their  rapidly  exchanged  glance,  said  to  herself, 
with  a  sharp  twinge  of  apprehension :  * '  Of  course 
Streffy  knows  everything;  he  showed  no  surprise 
at  finding  Ellie  away  when  he  arrived.  And  if 
he  knows,  what's  to  prevent  Nelson's  finding 
out?"  For  StrefTord,  in  a  mood  of  mischief,  was 
no  more  to  be  trusted  than  a  malicious  child. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        83 

Susy  instantly  resolved  to  risk  speaking  to  him, 
if  need  be  even  betraying  to  him  the  secret  of  the 
letters.  Only  by  revealing  the  depth  of  her  own 
danger  could  she  hope  to  secure  his  silence. 

On  the  balcony,  late  in  the  evening,  while  the 
others  were  listening  indoors  to  the  low  modula 
tions  of  a  young  composer  who  had  embroidered 
his  fancies  on  Browning's  " Toccata,"  Susy  found 
her  chance.  Strefford,  unsummoned,  had  followed 
her  out,  and  stood  silently  smoking  at  her  side. 

"You  see,  Streff —  oh,  why  should  you  and  I 
make  mysteries  to  each  other?"  she  suddenly 
began. 

"Why,  indeed:  but  do  we!" 

Susy  glanced  back  at  the  group  around  the 
piano,  * '  About  Ellie,  I  mean — and  Nelson. ' ' 

"Lord!  Ellie  and  Nelson?  You  call  that  a 
mystery?  I  should  as  soon  apply  the  term  to  one 
of  the  million-candle-power  advertisements  that 
adorn  your  native  thoroughfares." 

"Well,  yes.  But — "  She  stopped  again.  Had 
she  not  tacitly  promised  Ellie  not  to  speak? 

"My  Susan,  what's  wrong?"  Strefford  asked. 

"I  don't  know.  .  .  ." 

"Well,  I  do,  then:  you're  afraid  that,  if  Ellie 
and  Nelson  meet  here,  she'll  blurt  out  something 
— injudicious." 

"Oh,  she  won't!"  Susy  cried  with  conviction. 

"Well,  then — who  will?  I  trust  that  superhu 
man  child  not  to.  And  you  and  I  and  Nick " 


84        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  interrupting  him,  "that's 
just  it.  Nick  doesn't  know  .  .  .  doesn't  even 
suspect.  And  if  he  did.  ..." 

Strefford  flung  away  his  cigar  and  turned  to 
scrutinize  her.  "I  don't  see — hanged  if  I  do. 
What  business  is  it  of  any  of  us,  after  all?" 

That,  of  course,  was  the  old  view  that  cloaked 
connivance  in  an  air  of  decency.  But  to  Susy  it 
no  longer  carried  conviction,  and  she  hesitated. 

"If  Nick  should  find  out  that  I  know.  ..." 

"Good  Lord — doesn't  he  know  that  you  knowl 
After  all,  I  suppose  it's  not  the  first  time — " 

She  remained  silent. 

"The  first  time  you've  received  confidences — • 
from  married  friends.  Does  Nick  suppose  you've 
lived  even  to  your  tender  age  without.  .  .  Hang 
it,  what's  come  over  you,  child?" 

What  had,  indeed,  that  she  could  make  clear  to 
him?  And  yet  more  than  ever  she  felt  the  need 
of  having  him  securely  on  her  side.  Once  his  word 
was  pledged,  he  was  safe :  otherwise  there  was  no 
limit  to  his  capacity  for  wilful  harmfulness. 

"Look  here,  Streff,  you  and  I  know  that  Ellie 
hasn't  been  away  for  a  cure;  and  that  if  poor 
Clarissa  was  sworn  to  secrecy  it  was  not  because 
it  'worries  father'  to  think  that  mother  needs  to 
take  care  of  her  health. ' '  She  paused,  hating  her 
self  for  the  ironic  note  she  had  tried  to  sound. 

"Well — ?"  he  questioned,  from  the  depths  of 
the  chair  into  which  he  had  sunk. 

"Well,  Nick  doesn't  .  .  .  doesn't  dream  of  it» 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        85 

If  he  knew  that  we  owed  our  summer  here  to  ... 
to  my  knowing.  .  .  ." 

Strefford  sat  silent :  she  felt  his  astonished  stare 
through  the  darkness.  "Jove!"  he  said  at  last, 
with  a  low  whistle.  Susy  bent  over  the  balus 
trade,  her  heart  thumping  against  the  stone  rail. 

"What  of  soul  was  left,  I  wonder — 9"  the 
young  composer's  voice  shrilled  through  the  open 
windows. 

Strefford  sank  into  another  silence,  from  which 
he  roused  himself  only  as  Susy  turned  back 
toward  the  lighted  threshold. 

"Well,  my  dear,  we'll  see  it  through  between 
us;  you  and  I — and  Clarissa,"  he  said  with  his 
rasping  laugh,  rising  to  follow  her.  He  caught 
her  hand  and  gave  it  a  short  pressure  as  they  re- 
entered  the  drawing-room,  where  Ellie  was  saying 
plaintively  to  Fred  Gillow:  "I  can  never  hear 
that  thing  sung  without  wanting  to  cry  like  a 
baby." 


IX 


MB.  NELSON  VANDERLYN,  still  in  his  trav 
elling  clothes,  paused  on  the  threshold  of 
his  own  dining-room  and  surveyed  the  scene  with 
pardonable  satisfaction. 

He  was  a  short  round  man,  with  a  grizzled  head, 
small  facetious  eyes  and  a  large  and  credulous 
smile. 

At  the  luncheon  table  sat  his  wife,  between 
Charlie  Strefford  and  Nick  Lansing.  Next  to 
Strefford,  perched  on  her  high  chair,  Clarissa 
throned  in  infant  beauty,  while  Susy  Lansing  cut 
up  a  peach  for  her.  Through  wide  orange  awn 
ings  the  sun  slanted  in  upon  the  white-clad  group. 

1 '  Well — well — well !  So  I  Ve  caught  you  at  it ! " 
cried  the  happy  father,  whose  inveterate  habit  it 
was  to  address  his  wife  and  friends  as  if  he  had 
surprised  them  at  an  inopportune  moment.  Steal 
ing  up  from  behind,  he  lifted  his  daughter  into 
the  air,  while  a  chorus  of  "Hullo,  old  Nelson," 
hailed  his  appearance. 

It  was  two  or  three  years  since  Nick  Lansing 
had  seen  Mr.  Vanderlyn,  who  was  now  the  London 
representative  of  the  big  New  York  bank  of  Vand 
erlyn  &  Co.,  and  had  exchanged  his  sumptuous 
house  in  Fifth  Avenue  for  another,  more  sump- 

86 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        87 

tuous  still,  in  Mayfair;  and  the  young  man  looked 
curiously  and  attentively  at  his  host. 

Mr.  Vanderlyn  had  grown  older  and  stouter,  but 
his  face  still  kept  its  look  of  somewhat  worn  op 
timism.  He  embraced  his  wife,  greeted  Susy  af 
fectionately,  and  distributed  cordial  hand-grasps 
to  the  two  men. 

" Hullo,"  he  exclaimed,  suddenly  noticing  a 
pearl  and  coral  trinket  hanging  from  Clarissa's 
neck.  '  *  Who 's  been  giving  my  daughter  jewellery, 
I'd  like  to  know?" 

"Oh,  Streffy  did — just  think,  father!  Because 
I  said  I'd  rather  have  it  than  a  book,  you  know," 
Clarissa  lucidly  explained,  her  arms  tight  about 
her  father's  neck,  her  beaming  eyes  on  Strefford. 

Nelson  Vanderlyn 's  own  eyes  took  on  the  look 
of  shrewdness  which  came  into  them  whenever 
there  was  a  question  of  material  values. 

"What,  Streffy?  Caught  you  at  it,  eh?  Upon 
my  soul — spoiling  the  brat  like  that!  You'd  no 
business  to,  my  dear  chap — a  lovely  baroque 
pearl — "  he  protested,  with  the  half -apologetic 
tone  of  the  rich  man  embarrassed  by  too  costly 
a  gift  from  an  impecunious  friend. 

"Oh,  hadn't  I?  Why?  Because  it's  too  good 
for  Clarissa,  or  too  expensive  for  me?  Of  course 
you  daren't  imply  the  first;  and  as  for  me — I've 
had  a  windfall,  and  am  blowing  it  in  on  the 
ladies." 

Strefford,  Lansing  had  noticed,  always  used 
American  slang  when  he  was  slightly  at  a  loss, 


88         THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

and  wished  to  divert  attention  from  the  main 
point.  But  why  was  he  embarrassed,  whose  at 
tention  did  he  wish  to  divert?  It  was  plain  that 
Vanderlyn's  protest  had  been  merely  formal:  like 
most  of  the  wealthy,  he  had  only  the  dimmest 
notion  of  what  money  represented  to  the  poor. 
But  it  was  unusual  for  Strefford  to  give  any  one 
a  present,  and  especially  an  expensive  one:  per 
haps  that  was  what  had  fixed  Vanderlyn's  atten 
tion. 

"A  windfall?"  he  gaily  repeated. 

"Oh,  a  tiny  one:  I  was  offered  a  thumping 
rent  for  my  little  place  at  Como,  and  dashed  over 
here  to  squander  my  millions  with  the  rest  of 
you,"  said  Strefford  imperturbably. 

Vanderlyn's  look  immediately  became  inter 
ested  and  sympathetic.  "What — the  scene  of  the 
honey-moon!"  He  included  Nick  and  Susy  in  his 
friendly  smile. 

"Just  so:  the  reward  of  virtue.  I  say,  give  me 
a  cigar,  will  you,  old  man?  I  left  some  awfully 
good  ones  at  Como,  worse  luck — and  I  don't  mind 
telling  you  that  Ellie's  no  judge  of  tobacco,  and 
that  Nick's  too  far  gone  in  bliss  to  care  what  he 
smokes,"  Strefford  grumbled,  stretching  a  hand 
toward  his  host 's  cigar-case. 

"I  do  like  jewellery  best,"  Clarissa  murmured, 
hugging  her  father. 

Nelson  Vanderlyn's  first  word  to  his  wife  had 
been  that  he  had  brought  her  all  her  toggery ;  and 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        89 

she  had  welcomed  him  with  appropriate  enthu 
siasm.  In  fact,  to  the  lookers-on  her  joy  at  seeing 
him  seemed  rather  too  patently  in  proportion  to 
her  satisfaction  at  getting  her  clothes.  But  no 
such  suspicion  appeared  to  mar  Mr.  Vanderlyn's 
happiness  in  being,  for  once,  and  for  nearly  twen 
ty-four  hours,  under  the  same  roof  with  his  wife 
and  child.  He  did  not  conceal  his  regret  at  having 
promised  his  mother  to  join  her  the  next  day;  and 
added,  with  a  wistful  glance  at  Ellie :  "If  only  I'd 
known  you  meant  to  wait  for  me — !" 

But  being  a  man  of  duty,  in  domestic  as  well  as 
business  affairs,  he  did  not  even  consider  the  pos 
sibility  of  disappointing  the  exacting  old  lady  to 
whom  he  owed  his  being.  "Mother  cares  for  so 
few  people,"  he  used  to  say,  not  without  a  touch 
of  filial  pride  in  the  parental  exclusiveness,  ' '  that 
I  have  to  be  with  her  rather  more  than  if  she  were 
more  sociable";  and  with  smiling  resignation  he 
gave  orders  that  Clarissa  should  be  ready  to  start 
the  next  evening. 

"And  meanwhile/'  he  concluded,  "we'll  have 
all  the  good  time  that's  going." 

The  ladies  of  the  party  seemed  united  in  the 
desire  to  further  this  resolve;  and  it  was  settled 
that  as  soon  as  Mr.  Vanderlyn  had  despatched  a 
hasty  luncheon,  his  wife,  Clarissa  and  Susy  should 
carry  him  off  for  a  tea-picnic  at  Torcello.  They 
did  not  even  suggest  that  Strefford  or  Nick  should 
be  of  the  party,  or  that  any  of  the  other  young 
men  of  the  group  should  be  summoned;  as  Susy 


said,  Nelson  wanted  to  go  off  alone  with  his  harem. 
And  Lansing  and  Strefford  were  left  to  watch  the 
departure  of  the  happy  Pasha  ensconced  between 
attentive  beauties. 

"Well — that's  what  you  call  being  married!" 
Strefford  commented,  waving  his  battered 
Panama  at  Clarissa. 

"Oh,  no,  I  don't!"  Lansing  laughed. 

"He  does.  But  do  you  know — "  Strefford 
paused  and  swung  about  on  his  companion — "do 
you  know,  when  the  Rude  Awakening  comes,  I 
don't  care  to  be  there.  I  believe  there'll  be  some 
crockery  broken. ' ' 

"Shouldn't  wonder,"  Lansing  answered  indif 
ferently.  He  wandered  away  to  his  own  room, 
leaving  Strefford  to  philosophize  to  his  pipe. 

Lansing  had  always  known  about  poor  old 
Nelson:  who  hadn't,  except  poor  old  Nelson?  The 
case  had  once  seemed  amusing  because  so  typical ; 
now,  it  rather  irritated  Nick  that  Vanderlyn 
should  be  so  complete  an  ass.  But  he  would  be 
off  the  next  day,  and  so  would  Ellie,  and  then, 
for  many  enchanted  weeks,  the  palace  would  once 
more  be  the  property  of  Nick  and  Susy.  Of  all 
the  people  who  came  and  went  in  it,  they  were  the 
only  ones  who  appreciated  it,  or  knew  how  it  was 
meant  to  be  lived  in;  and  that  made  it  theirs  in 
the  only  valid  sense.  In  this  light  it  became  easy 
to  regard  the  Vanderlyns  as  mere  transient  in 
truders. 

Having  relegated  them  to  this  convenient  dis- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        91 

tance,  Lansing  shut  himself  up  with  his  book.  He 
had  returned  to  it  with  fresh  energy  after  his  few 
weeks  of  holiday-making,  and  was  determined  to 
finish  it  quickly.  He  did  not  expect  that  it  would 
bring  in  much  money;  but  if  it  were  moderately 
successful  it  might  give  him  an  opening  in  the  re 
views  and  magazines,  and  in  that  case  he  meant 
to  abandon  archaeology  for  novels,  since  it  was 
only  as  a  purveyor  of  fiction  that  he  could  count 
on  earning  a  living  for  himself  and  Susy. 

Late  in  the  afternoon  he  laid  down  his  pen  and 
wandered  out  of  doors.  He  loved  the  increasing 
heat  of  the  Venetian  summer,  the  bruised  peach- 
tints  of  worn  house-fronts,  the  enamelling  of  sun 
light  on  dark  green  canals,  the  smell  of  half-de 
cayed  fruits  and  flowers  thickening  the  languid 
air.  What  visions  he  could  build,  if  he  dared,  of 
being  tucked  away  with  Susy  in  the  attic  of  some 
tumble-down  palace,  above  a  jade-green  water 
way,  with  a  terrace  overhanging  a  scrap  of  ne 
glected  garden — and  cheques  from  the  publishers 
dropping  in  at  convenient  intervals !  Why  should 
they  not  settle  in  Venice  if  he  pulled  it  off! 

He  found  himself  before  the  church  of  the 
Scalzi,  and  pushing  open  the  leathern  door  wan 
dered  up  the  nave  under  the  whirl  of  rose-and- 
lemon  angels  in  Tiepolo  's  great  vault.  It  was  not 
a  church  in  which  one  was  likely  to  run  across 
sight-seers;  but  he  presently  remarked  a  young 
lady  standing  alone  near  the  choir,  and  assidu 
ously  applying  her  field-glass  to  the  celestial 


92        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

vortex,  from  which  she  occasionally  glanced  down 
at  an  open  manual. 

As  Lansing's  step  sounded  on  the  pavement, 
the  young  lady,  turning,  revealed  herself  as  Miss 
Hicks. 

"Ah — you  like  this  too?  It's  several  centuries 
out  of  your  line,  though,  isn't  it?"  Nick  asked  as 
they  shook  hands. 

She  gazed  at  him  gravely.  "Why  shouldn't  one 
like  things  that  are  out  of  one's  line?"  she  an 
swered  ;  and  he  agreed,  with  a  laugh,  that  it  was 
often  an  incentive. 

She  continued  to  fix  her  grave  eyes  on  him,  and 
after  one  or  two  remarks  about  the  Tiepolos  he 
perceived  that  she  was  feeling  her  way  toward  a 
subject  of  more  personal  interest. 

"I'm  glad  to  see  you  alone,"  she  said  at  length, 
with  an  abruptness  that  might  have  seemed  awk 
ward  had  it  not  been  so  completely  unconscious. 
She  turned  toward  a  cluster  of  straw  chairs,  and 
signed  to  Nick  to  seat  himself  beside  her. 

"I  seldom  do,"  she  added,  with  the  serious 
smile  that  made  her  heavy  face  almost  handsome ; 
and  she  went  on,  giving  him  no  time  to  protest: 
4 'I  wanted  to  speak  to  you — to  explain  about 
father's  invitation  to  go  with  us  to  Persia  and 
Turkestan. ' ' 

"To  explain?" 

"Yes.  You  found  the  letter  when  you  arrived 
here  just  after  your  marriage,  didn't  you?  You 
must  have  thought  it  odd,  our  asking  you  just 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON         93 

then;  but  we  hadn't  heard  that  you  were 
married.'* 

"Oh,  I  guessed  as  much:  it  happened  very 
quietly,  and  I  was  remiss  about  announcing  it, 
even  to  old  friends. " 

Lansing  frowned.  His  thoughts  had  wandered 
away  to  the  evening  when  he  had  found  Mrs. 
Hicks 's  letter  in  the  mail  awaiting  him  at  Venice. 
The  day  was  associated  in  his  mind  with  the  ri 
diculous  and  mortifying  episode  of  the  cigars — 
the  expensive  cigars  that  Susy  had  wanted  to 
carry  away  from  Strefford's  villa.  Their  brief 
exchange  of  views  on  the  subject  had  left  the  first 
blur  on  the  perfect  surface  of  his  happiness,  and 
he  still  felt  an  uncomfortable  heat  at  the  remem 
brance.  For  a  few  hours  the  prospect  of  life  with 
Susy  had  seemed  unendurable ;  and  it  was  just  at 
that  moment  that  he  had  found  the  letter  from 
Mrs.  Hicks,  with  its  almost  irresistible  invitation. 
If  only  her  daughter  had  known  how  nearly  he 
had  accepted  it ! 

"It  was  a  dreadful  temptation, "  he  said,  smil 
ing. 

'  *  To  go  with  us  ?    Then  why—  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  everything's  different  now:  I've  got  to 
stick  to  my  writing. ' ' 

Miss  Hicks  still  bent  on  him  the  same  unblink 
ing  scrutiny.  "Does  that  mean  that  you're  going 
to  give  up  your  real  work?" 

"My  real  work — archaeology?"  He  smiled 
again  to  hide  a  twitch  of  regret.  "Why,  I'm 


94        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

afraid  it  hardly  produces  a  living  wage;  and  I've 
got  to  think  of  that."  He  coloured  suddenly,  as 
if  suspecting  that  Miss  Hicks  might  consider  the 
avowal  an  opening  for  he  hardly  knew  what  pond 
erous  offer  of  aid.  The  Hicks  munificence  was 
too  uncalculating  not  to  be  occasionally  oppres 
sive.  But  looking  at  her  again  he  saw  that  her 
eyes  were  full  of  tears. 

"I  thought  it  was  your  vocation,"  she  said. 

"So  did  I.  But  life  comes  along,  and  upsets 
things. " 

"Oh,  I  understand.  There  may  be  things — 
worth  giving  up  all  other  things  for." 

"There  are!1'  cried  Nick  with  beaming  em 
phasis. 

He  was  conscious  that  Miss  Hicks 's  eyes  de 
manded  of  him  even  more  than  this  sweeping  af 
firmation. 

"But  your  novel  may  fail,"  she  said  with  her 
odd  harshness. 

"It  may — it  probably  will,"  he  agreed.  "But 
if  one  stopped  to  consider  such  possibilities — " 

"Don't  you  have  to,  with  a  wife?" 

"Oh,  my  dear  Coral — how  old  are  you?  Not 
twenty?"  he  questioned,  laying  a  brotherly  hand 
on  hers. 

She  stared  at  him  a  moment,  and  sprang  up 
clumsily  from  her  chair.  "I  was  never  young 
...  if  that's  what  you  mean.  It's  lucky,  isn't  it, 
that  my  parents  gave  me  such  a  grand  education? 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        95 

j 

Because,  you  see,  art's  a  wonderful  resource." 
(She  pronounced  it  re-source.) 

He  continued  to  look  at  her  kindly.  '  *  You  won 't 
need  it — or  any  other — when  you  grow  young,  as 
you  will  some  day,"  he  assured  her. 

"Do  you  mean,  when  I  fall  in  love?  But  I  am 
in  love —  Oh,  there's  Eldorada  and  Mr.  Beck!" 
She  broke  off  with  a  jerk,  signalling  with  her  field- 
glass  to  the  pair  who  had  just  appeared  at  the 
farther  end  of  the  nave.  "I  told  them  that  if 
they'd  meet  me  here  to-day  I'd  try  to  make  them 
understand  Tiepolo.  Because,  you  see,  at  home 
we've  never  really  Jiave  understood  Tiepolo; 
and  Mr.  Beck  and  Eldorada  are  the  only  ones  to 
realize  it.  Mr.  Buttles  simply  won't."  She 
turned  to  Lansing  and  held  out  her  hand.  "I  am 
in  love,"  she  repeated  earnestly,  "and  that's  the 
reason  why  I  find  art  such  a  re-source." 

She  restored  her  eye-glasses,  opened  her  man 
ual,  and  strode  across  the  church  to  the  expectant 
neophytes. 

Lansing,  looking  after  her,  wondered  for  half 
a  moment  whether  Mr.  Beck  were  the  object  of 
this  apparently  unrequited  sentiment;  then,  with 
a  queer  start  of  introspection,  abruptly  decided 
that,  no,  he  certainly  was  not.  But  then — but 
then — .  Well,  there  was  no  use  in  following  up 
such  conjectures.  .  .  .  He  turned  homeward, 
wondering  if  the  picnickers  had  already  reached 
Palazzo  Vanderlyn. 


96        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

They  got  back  only  in  time  for  a  late  dinner, 
full  of  chaff  and  laughter,  and  apparently  still  en 
chanted  with  each  other's  society.  Nelson  Van- 
erlyn  beamed  on  his  wife,  sent  his  daughter  off 
to  bed  with  a  kiss,  and  leaning  back  in  his  arm 
chair  before  the  fruit-and-flower-laden  table,  de 
clared  that  he'd  never  spent  a  jollier  day  in  his 
life.  Susy  seemed  to  come  in  for  a  full  share  of 
his  approbation,  and  Lansing  thought  that  Ellie 
was  unusually  demonstrative  to  her  friend.  Stref- 
ford,  from  his  hostess's  side,  glanced  across  now 
and  then  at  young  Mrs.  Lansing,  and  his  glance 
seemed  to  Lansing  a  confidential  comment  on  the 
Vanderlyn  raptures.  But  then  Strefford  was  al 
ways  having  private  jokes  with  people  or  about 
them ;  and  Lansing  was  irritated  with  himself  for 
perpetually  suspecting  his  best  friends  of  vague 
complicities  at  his  expense.  "If  I'm  going  to  be 
jealous  of  Streft'y  now — !"  he  concluded  with  a 
grimace  of  self-derision. 

Certainly  Susy  looked  lovely  enough  to  justify 
the  most  irrational  pangs.  As  a  girl  she  had 
been,  for  some  people's  taste,  a  trifle  fine-drawn 
and  sharp-edged ;  now,  to  her  old  lightness  of  line 
was  added  a  shadowy  bloom,  a  sort  of  star-reflect 
ing  depth.  Her  movements  were  slower,  less 
angular ;  her  mouth  had  a  nestling  droop,  her  lids 
seemed  weighed  down  by  their  lashes;  and  then 
suddenly  the  old  spirit  would  reveal  itself  through 
the  new  languor,  like  the  tartness  at  the  core  of 
a  sweet  fruit.  As  her  husband  looked  at  her 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        97 

across  the  flowers  and  lights  he  laughed  inwardly 
at  the  nothingness  of  all  things  else. 

Vanderlyn  and  Clarissa  left  betimes  the  next 
morning;  and  Mrs.  Vanderlyn,  who  was  to  start 
for  St.  Moritz  in  the  afternoon,  devoted  her  last 
hours  to  anxious  conferences  with  her  maid  and 
Susy.  Strefford,  with  Fred  Gillow  and  the  others, 
had  gone  for  a  swim  at  the  Lido,  and  Lansing 
seized  the  opportunity  to  get  back  to  his  book. 

The  quietness  of  the  great  echoing  place  gave 
him  a  foretaste  of  the  solitude  to  come.  By  mid- 
August  all  their  party  would  be  scattered:  the 
Hickses  off  on  a  cruise  to  Crete  and  the  ^Egean, 
Fred  Gillow  on  the  way  to  his  moor,  Strefford  to 
stay  with  friends  in  Capri  till  his  annual  visit  to 
Northumberland  in  September.  One  by  one 
the  others  would  follow,  and  Lansing  and 
Susy  be  left  alone  in  the  great  sun-proof  palace, 
alone  under  the  star-laden  skies,  alone  with 
the  great  orange  moons — still  theirs! — above  the 
bell-tower  of  San  Giorgio.  The  novel,  in  that 
blessed  quiet,  would  unfold  itself  as  harmoniously 
as  his  dreams. 

He  wrote  on,  forgetful  of  the  passing  hours, 
till  the  door  opened  and  he  heard  a  step  behind 
him.  The  next  moment  two  hands  were  clasped 
over  his  eyes,  and  the  air  was  full  of  Mrs.  Vand 
erlyn  's  last  new  scent. 

"You  dear  thing — I'm  just  off,  you  know,*'  she 
said.  "Susy  told  me  you  were  working,  and  I 


98        THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

forbade  her  to  call  you  down.  She  and  Streffy 
are  waiting  to  take  me  to  the  station,  and  I've  run 
up  to  say  good-bye." 

"Ellie,  dear!"  Full  of  compunction,  Lansing 
pushed  aside  his  writing  and  started  up ;  but  she 
pressed  him  back  into  his  seat. 

"No,  no!  I  should  never  forgive  myself  if  I'd 
interrupted  you.  I  oughtn't  to  have  come  up; 
Susy  didn't  want  me  to.  But  I  had  to  tell  you, 
you  dear.  ...  I  had  to  thank  you.  ..." 

In  her  dark  travelling  dress  and  hat,  so  dis 
creetly  conspicuous,  so  negligent  and  so  studied, 
with  a  veil  masking  her  paint,  and  gloves  hiding 
her  rings,  she  looked  younger,  simpler,  more  nat 
ural  than  he  had  ever  seen  her.  Poor  Ellie — such 
a  good  fellow,  after  all ! 

"To  thank  me!  For  what?  For  being  so 
happy  here?"  he  laughed,  taking  her  hands. 

She  looked  at  him,  laughed  back,  and  flung  her 
arms  about  his  neck. 

"For  helping  me  to  be  so  happy  elsewhere — 
you  and  Susy,  you  two  blessed  darlings!"  she 
cried,  with  a  kiss  on  his  cheek. 

Their  eyes  met  for  a  second;  then  her  arms 
slipped  slowly  downward,  dropping  to  her  sides. 
Lansing  sat  before  her  like  a  stone. 

"Oh,"  she  gasped,  "why  do  you  stare  so? 
Didn't  you  know  ...  ?" 

They  heard  Strefford's  shrill  voice  on  the 
stairs.  "Ellie,  where  the  deuce  are  you?  Susy's 
in  the  gondola.  You'll  miss  the  train!" 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON        99 

Lansing  stood  up  and  caught  Mrs.  Vanderlyn 
by  the  wrist.  "What  do  you  mean?  What  are 
you  talking  about  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  nothing.  .  .  .  But  you  were  both  such 
bricks  about  the  letters.  .  .  .  And  when  Nelson 
was  here,  too.  .  .  .  Nick,  don't  hurt  my  wrist  so! 
I  must  run ! ' ' 

He  dropped  her  hand  and  stood  motionless, 
staring  after  her  and  listening  to  the  click  of  her 
high  heels  as  she  fled  across  the  room  and  along 
the  echoing  corridor. 

When  he  turned  back  to  the  table  he  noticed  that 
a  small  morocco  case  had  fallen  among  his  papers. 
In  falling  it  had  opened,  and  before  him,  on  the 
pale  velvet  lining,  lay  a  scarf-pin  set  with  a  per 
fect  pearl.  He  picked  the  box  up,  and  was  about 
to  hasten  after  Mrs.  Vanderlyn — it  was  so  like  her 
to  shed  jewels  on  her  path ! — when  he  noticed  his 
own  initials  on  the  cover. 

He  dropped  the  box  as  if  it  had  been  a  hot  coal, 
and  sat  for  a  long  while  gazing  at  the  gold  N.  L.? 
which  seemed  to  have  burnt  itself  into  his  flesh. 

At  last  he  roused  himself  and  stood  up. 


WITH  a  sigh  of  relief  Susy  drew  the  pins  from 
her  hat  and  threw  herself  down  on  the 
lounge. 

The  ordeal  she  had  dreaded  was  over,  and  Mr. 
and  Mrs.  Vanderlyn  had  safely  gone  their  sev 
eral  ways.  Poor  Ellie  was  not  noted  for  pru 
dence,  and  when  life  smiled  on  her  she  was  given 
to  betraying  her  gratitude  too  openly ;  but  thanks 
to  Susy's  vigilance  (and,  no  doubt,  to  Strefford's 
tacit  co-operation),  the  dreaded  twenty-four  hours 
were  happily  over.  Nelson  Vanderlyn  had  departed 
without  a  shadow  on  his  brow,  and  though  Ellie 's, 
when  she  came  down  from  bidding  Nick  good-bye, 
had  seemed  to  Susy  less  serene  than  usual,  she 
became  her  normal  self  as  soon  as  it  was  discov 
ered  that  the  red  morocco  bag  with  her  jewel-box 
was  missing.  Before  it  had  been  discovered  in 
the  depths  of  the  gondola  they  had  reached  the 
station,  and  there  was  just  time  to  thrust  her  into 
her  " sleeper,"  from  which  she  was  seen  to  wave 
an  unperturbed  farewell  to  her  friends. 

"Well,  my  dear,  we've  seen  it  through,"  Stref- 
ford  remarked  with  a  deep  breath  as  the  St. 
Moritz  express  rolled  away. 

"Oh,"  Susy  sighed  in  mute  complicity;  then, 
as  if  to  cover  her  self -betrayal :  "Poor  darling, 
she  does  so  like  what  she  likes!" 

100 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      101 

1  'Yes — even  if  it's  a  rotten  bounder,"  Strefford 
agreed. 

"A  rotten  bounder!    Why,  I  thought — " 

"That  it  was  still  young  Davenant?  Lord,  no 
— not  for  the  last  six  months.  Didn't  she  tell 
you—?" 

Susy  felt  herself  redden.    "I  didn't  ask  her — " 

"Ask  her?    You  mean  you  didn't  let  her!" 

"I  didn't  let  her.  And  I  don't  let  you,"  Susy 
added  sharply,  as  he  helped  her  into  the  gondola. 

"Oh,  all  right:  I  daresay  you're  right.  It  sim 
plifies  things,"  Strefford  placidly  acquiesced. 

She  made  no  answer,  and  in  silence  they  glided 
homeward. 

Now,  in  the  quiet  of  her  own  room,  Susy  lay 
and  pondered  on  the  distance  she  had  travelled 
during  the  last  year.  Strefford  had  read  her 
mind  with  his  usual  penetration.  It  was  true  that 
there  had  been  a  time  when  she  would  have 
thought  it  perfectly  natural  that  Ellie  should  tell 
her  everything;  that  the  name  of  young  Dave- 
nant's  successor  should  be  confided  to  her  as  a 
matter  of  course.  Apparently  even  Ellie  had  been 
obscurely  aware  of  the  change,  for  after  a  first  at 
tempt  to  force  her  confidences  on  Susy  she  had 
contented  herself  with  vague  expressions  of  grat 
itude,  allusive  smiles  and  sighs,  and  the  pretty 
"surprise"  of  the  sapphire  bangle  slipped  onto 
her  friend's  wrist  in  the  act  of  their  farewell 
embrace. 

The  bangle  was   extremely  handsome.     Susy, 


102      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

who  had  an  auctioneer's  eye  for  values,  knew  to 
a  fraction  the  worth  of  those  deep  convex  stones 
alternating  with  small  emeralds  and  brilliants. 
She  was  glad  to  own  the  bracelet,  and  enchanted 
with  the  effect  it  produced  on  her  slim  wrist ;  yet, 
even  while  admiring  it,  and  rejoicing  that  it  was 
hers,  she  had  already  transmuted  it  into  specie, 
and  reckoned  just  how  far  it  would  go  toward  the 
paying  of  domestic  necessities.  For  whatever 
came  to  her  now  interested  her  only  as  something 
more  to  be  offered  up  to  Nick. 

The  door  opened  and  Nick  came  in.  Dusk  had 
fallen,  and  she  could  not  see  his  face;  but  some 
thing  in  the  jerk  of  the  door-handle  roused  her 
ever-wakeful  apprehension.  She  hurried  toward 
him  with  outstretched  wrist. 

"Look,  dearest  —  wasn't  it  too  darling  of 
Ellie!" 

She  pressed  the  button  of  the  lamp  that  lit  her 
dressing-table,  and  her  husband's  face  started  un- 
f  amiliarly  out  of  the  twilight.  She  slipped  off  the 
bracelet  and  held  it  up  to  him. 

"Oh,  I  can  go  you  one  better, "  he  said  with  a 
laugh ;  and  pulling  a  morocco  case  from  his  pocket 
he  flung  it  down  among  the  scent-bottles. 

Susy  opened  the  case  automatically,  staring  at 
the  pearl  because  she  was  afraid  to  look  again  at 
Nick. 

"Ellie — gave  you  this?"  she  asked  at  length. 

"Yes.  She  gave  me  this. "  There  was  a  pause. 
"Would  you  mind  telling  me/'  Lansing  continued 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      103 

in  the  same  dead-level  tone,  "'exactly  for  what 
services  we've  both  been  so  handsomely  paid!" 

''The  pearl  is  beautiful,"  Susy  murmured,  to 
gain  time,  while  her  head  spun  round  with  unim 
aginable  terrors. 

"So  are  your  sapphires;  though,  on  closer  ex 
amination,  my  services  would  appear  to  have  been 
valued  rather  higher  than  yours.  Would  you  be 
kind  enough  to  tell  me  just  what  they  were?" 

Susy  threw  her  head  back  and  looked  at  him. 
"What  on  earth  are  you  talking  about,  Nick? 
Why  shouldn't  Ellie  have  given  us  these  things? 
Do  you  forget  that  it's  like  our  giving  her  a  pen 
wiper  or  a  button-hook?  What  is  it  you  are  try 
ing  to  suggest?" 

It  had  cost  her  a  considerable  effort  to  hold  his 
eyes  while  she  put  the  questions.  Something  had 
happened  between  him  and  Ellie,  that  was  evident 
— one  of  those  hideous  unforeseeable  blunders 
that  may  cause  one's  cleverest  plans  to  crumble 
at  a  stroke;  and  again  Susy  shuddered  at  the 
frailty  of  her  bliss.  But  her  old  training  stood 
her  in  good  stead.  There  had  been  more  than  one 
moment  in  her  past  when  everything — somebody 
else's  everything — had  depended  on  her  keeping 
a  cool  head  and  a  clear  glance.  It  would  have 
been  a  wonder  if  now,  when  she  felt  her  own 
everything  at  stake,  she  had  not  been  able  to  put 
up  as  good  a  defence. 

"What  is  it?"  she  repeated  impatiently,  as 
Lansing  continued  to  remain  silent. 


104       THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"That's  what  I'm  here  to  ask,"  he  returned, 
keeping  his  eyes  as  steady  as  she  kept  hers. 
"There's  no  reason  on  earth,  as  you  say,  why 
Ellie  shouldn't  give  us  presents — as  expensive 
presents  as  she  likes;  and  the  pearl  is  a  beauty. 
All  I  ask  is :  for  what  specific  services  were  they 
given?  For,  allowing  for  all  the  absence  of 
scruple  that  marks  the  intercourse  of  truly  civil 
ized  people,  you'll  probably  agree  that  there  are 
limits;  at  least  up  to  now  there  have  been 
limits.  ..." 

"I  really  don't  know  what  you  mean.  I  sup 
pose  Ellie  wanted  to  show  that  she  was  grateful 
to  us  for  looking  after  Clarissa." 

"But  she  gave  us  all  this  in  exchange  for  that, 
didn't  she!"  he  suggested,  with  a  sweep  of  the 
hand  around  the  beautiful  shadowy  room.  "A 
whole  summer  of  it  if  we  choose." 

Susy  smiled.  " Apparently  she  didn't  think 
that  enough." 

"What  a  doting  mother!  It  shows  the  store 
she  sets  upon  her  child." 

"Well,  don't  you  set  store  upon  Clarissa?" 

"Clarissa  is  exquisite;  but  her  mother  didn't 
mention  her  in  offering  me  this  recompense." 

Susy  lifted  her  head  again.  "Whom  did  she 
mention  ? ' ' 

"Vanderlyn,"  said  Lansing. 

"Vanderlyn?    Nelson?" 

"Yes — and  some  letters  .  .  .  something  about 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      105 

letters.  .  .  .  What  is  it,  my  dear,  that  you  and  I 
have  been  hired  to  hide  from  Vanderlyn?  Be 
cause  I  should  like  to  know, ' '  Nick  broke  out  sav 
agely,  *  *  if  we  Ve  been  adequately  paid. ' ' 

Susy  was  silent :  she  needed  time  to  reckon  up 
her  forces,  and  study  her  next  move;  and  her 
brain  was  in  such  a  whirl  of  fear  that  she  could 
at  last  only  retort:  "What  is  it  that  Ellie  said  to 
you?" 

Lansing  laughed  again.  "That's  just  what 
you'd  like  to  find  out — isn't  it? — in  order  to  know 
the  line  to  take  in  making  your  explanation." 

The  sneer  had  an  effect  that  he  could  not  have 
foreseen,  and  that  Susy  herself  had  not  expected. 

"Oh,  don't — don't  let  us  speak  to  each  other 
like  that!"  she  cried;  and  sinking  down  by  the 
dressing-table  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands. 

It  seemed  to  her,  now,  that  nothing  mattered 
except  that  their  love  for  each  other,  their  faith 
in  each  other,  should  be  saved  from  some  unheal- 
able  hurt.  She  was  willing  to  tell  Nick  everything 
— she  wanted  to  tell  him  everything — if  only  she 
could  be  sure  of  reaching  a  responsive  chord  in 
him.  But  the  scene  of  the  cigars  came  back  to 
her,  and  benumbed  her.  If  only  she  could  make 
him  see  that  nothing  was  of  any  account  as  long 
as  they  continued  to  love  each  other ! 

His  touch  fell  compassionately  on  her  shoulder. 
"Poor  child — don't,"  he  said. 

Their  eyes  met,  but  his  expression  checked  the 


106      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

smile  breaking  through  her  tears.  " Don't  you 
see,"  he  continued,  "that  we've  got  to  have  this 
thing  out?" 

She  continued  to  stare  at  him  through  a  prism 
of  tears.  '  *  I  can 't — while  you  stand  up  like  that, ' ' 
she  stammered,  childishly. 

She  had  cowered  down  again  into  a  corner  of 
the  lounge;  but  Lansing  did  not  seat  himself  at 
her  side.  He  took  a  chair  facing  her,  like  a  caller 
on  the  farther  side  of  a  stately  tea-tray.  "Will 
that  do?"  he  asked  with  a  stiff  smile,  as  if  to 
humour  her. 

"Nothing  will  do — as  long  as  you're  not  you!" 

"Not  me?" 

She  shook  her  head  wearily.  "What's  the  use? 
You  accept  things  theoretically — and  then  when 
they  happen.  ..." 

' '  What  things  I    What  has  happened  ? ' ' 

A  sudden  impatience  mastered  her.  What  did 
he  suppose,  after  all — f  "But  you  know  all  about 
Ellie.  We  used  to  talk  about  her  often  enough  in 
old  times,"  she  said. 

' '  Ellie  and  young  Davenant  ? ' ' 

"Young  Davenant;  or  the  others.  ..." 

"Or  the  others.  But  what  business  was  it  of 
ours  ? ' ' 

"Ah,  that's  just  what  I  think!"  she  cried, 
springing  up  with  an  explosion  of  relief.  Lansing 
stood  up  also,  but  there  was  no  answering  light  in 
his  face. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      107 

"We're  outside  of  all  that;  we've  nothing  to  do 
with  it,  have  we!"  he  pursued. 

"Nothing  whatever." 

"Then  what  on  earth  is  the  meaning  of  Ellie's 
gratitude?  Gratitude  for  what  we've  done  about 
some  letters — and  about  Vanderlyn?" 

"Oh,  not  you,11  Susy  cried,  involuntarily. 

"Not  I?  Then  you?"  He  came  close  and  took 
her  by  the  wrist.  "Answer  me.  Have  you  been 
mixed  up  in  some  dirty  business  of  Ellie's?" 

There  was  a  pause.  She  found  it  impossible  to 
speak,  with  that  burning  grasp  on  the  wTrist  where 
the  bangle  had  been.  At  length  he  let  her  go  and 
moved  away.  "Answer,"  he  repeated. 

"I've  told  you  it  was  my  business  and  not 
yours." 

He  received  this  in  silence ;  then  he  questioned : 
"You've  been  sending  letters  for  her,  I  suppose? 
To  whom?" 

* '  Oh,  why  do  you  torment  me  ?  Nelson  was  not 
supposed  to  know  that  she  'd  been  away.  She  left 
me  the  letters  to  post  to  him  once  a  week.  I  found 
them  here  the  night  we  arrived.  ...  It  was  the 
price — for  this.  Oh,  Nick,  say  it's  been  worth  it 
— say  at  least  that  it's  been  worth  it!"  she  im 
plored  him. 

He  stood  motionless,  unresponding.  One  hand 
drummed  on  the  corner  of  her  dressing-table, 
making  the  jewelled  bangle  dance. 

"How  many  letters?" 


108      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"I  don't  know  .  .  .  four  .  .  .  five  .  .  .  What 
does  it  matter?" 

"And  once  a  week,  for  six  weeks — ?" 

"Yes." 

"And  you  took  it  all  as  a  matter  of  course?" 

"No:  I  hated  it.    But  what  could  I  do?" 

"What  could  you  do?" 

"When  our  being  together  depended  on  it? 
Oh,  Nick,  how  could  you  think  I'd  give  you  up?" 

"Give  me  up?"  he  echoed. 

"Well — doesn't  our  being  together  depend  on 
— on  what  we  can  get  out  of  people?  And  hasn't 
there  always  got  to  be  some  give-and-take?  Did 
yon  ever  in  your  life  get  anything  for  nothing?" 
she  cried  with  sudden  exasperation.  "You've 
lived  among  these  people  as  long  as  I  have ;  I  sup 
pose  it's  not  the  first  time — " 

"By  God,  but  it  is,"  he  exclaimed,  flushing. 
"And  that's  the  difference — the  fundamental 
difference. ' ' 

"The  difference?" 

"Between  you  and  me.  I've  never  in  my  life 
done  people's  dirty  work  for  them — least  of  all 
for  favours  in  return.  I  suppose  you  guessed  it, 
or  you  wouldn't  have  hidden  this  beastly  business 
from  me." 

The  blood  rose  to  Susy's  temples  also.  Yes, 
she  had  guessed  it ;  instinctively,  from  the  day  she 
had  first  visited  him  in  his  bare  lodgings,  she  had 
been  aware  of  his  stricter  standard.  But  how 
could  she  tell  him  that  under  his  influence  her 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      109 

standard  had  become  stricter  too,  and  that  it  was 
as  much  to  hide  her  humiliation  from  herself  as 
to  escape  his  anger  that  she  had  held  her  tongue? 

"You  knew  I  wouldn't  have  stayed  here  an 
other  day  if  I'd  known,"  he  continued. 

"Yes:  and  then  where  in  the  world  should  we 
have  gone?" 

'  *  You  mean  that — in  one  way  or  another — what 
you  call  give-and-take  is  the  price  of  our  remain 
ing  together?" 

"Well— isn't  it?"  she  faltered. 

"Then  we'd  better  part,  hadn't  we?" 

He  spoke  in  a  low  tone,  thoughtfully  and  delib 
erately,  as  if  this  had  been  the  inevitable  conclu 
sion  to  which  their  passionate  argument  had  led. 

Susy  made  no  answer.  For  a  moment  she 
ceased  to  be  conscious  of  the  causes  of  what  had 
happened;  the  thing  itself  seemed  to  have  smoth 
ered  her  under  its  ruins. 

Nick  wandered  away  from  the  dressing-table 
and  stood  gazing  out  of  the  window  at  the  dark 
ening  canal  flecked  with  lights.  She  looked  at  his 
back,  and  wondered  what  would  happen  if  she 
were  to  go  up  to  him  and  fling  her  arms  about  him. 
But  even  if  her  touch  could  have  broken  the  spell, 
she  was  not  sure  she  would  have  chosen  that  way 
of  breaking  it.  Beneath  her  speechless  anguish 
there  burned  the  half-conscious  sense  of  having 
been  unfairly  treated.  When  they  had  entered 
into  their  queer  compact,  Nick  had  known  as  well 
as  she  on  what  compromises  and  concessions  the 


110      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

life  they  were  to  live  together  must  be  based. 
That  he  should  have  forgotten  it  seemed  so  unbe 
lievable  that  she  wondered,  with  a  new  leap  of 
fear,  if  he  were  using  the  wretched  Ellie's  indis 
cretion  as  a  means  of  escape  from  a  tie  already 
wearied  of.  Suddenly  she  raised  her  head  with  a 
laugh. 

''After  all — you  were  right  when  you  wanted 
me  to  be  your  mistress." 

He  turned  on  her  with  an  astonished  stare. 
"You — my  mistress?" 

Through  all  her  pain  she  thrilled  with  pride  at 
the  discovery  that  such  a  possibility  had  long 
since  become  unthinkable  to  him.  But  she  in 
sisted.  * '  That  day  at  the  Fulmers ' — have  you  for 
gotten?  When  you  said  it  would  be  sheer  mad 
ness  for  us  to  marry." 

Lansing  stood  leaning  in  the  embrasure  of  the 
window,  his  eyes  fixed  on  the  mosaic  volutes  of 
the  floor. 

"I  was  right  enough  when  I  said  it  would  be 
sheer  madness  for  us  to  marry,"  he  rejoined  at 
length. 

She  sprang  up  trembling.  "Well,  that's  easily 
settled.  Our  compact — " 

"Oh,  that  compact — "  he  interrupted  her  with 
an  impatient  laugh. 

"Aren't  you  asking  me  to  carry  it  out  now?" 

"Because  I  said  we'd  better  part?"  He  paused. 
"But  the  compact — I'd  almost  forgotten  it — was 
to  the  effect,  wasn't  it,  that  we  were  to  give  each 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      111 

other  a  helping  hand  if  either  of  us  had  a  better 
chance  ?  The  thing  was  absurd,  of  course ;  a  mere 
joke;  from  my  point  of  view,  at  least.  I  shall 
never  want  any  better  chance  .  .  .  any  other 
chance.  ..." 

"Oh,  Nick,  oh,  Nick  ...  but  then.  ..."  She 
was  close  to  him,  his  face  looming  down  through 
her  tears ;  but  he  put  her  back. 

"It  would  have  been  easy  enough,  wouldn't  it," 
he  rejoined,  "if  we'd  been  as  detachable  as  all 
that?  As  it  is,  it's  going  to  hurt  horribly.  But 
talking  it  over  won't  help.  You  were  right  just 
now  when  you  asked  how  else  we  were  going  to 
live.  We're  born  parasites,  both,  I  suppose,  or 
we'd  have  found  out  some  way  long  ago.  But  I 
find  there  are  things  I  might  put  up  with  for  my 
self,  at  a  pinch — and  should,  probably,  in  time — 
that  I  can't  let  you  put  up  with  for  me  .  .  . 
ever.  .  .  .  Those  cigars  at  Como :  do  you  suppose 
I  didn't  know  it  was  for  me?  And  this  too?  Well, 
it  won't  do  ...  it  won't  do.  .  .  ." 

He  stopped,  as  if  his  courage  failed  him;  and 
she  moaned  out:  "But  your  writing — if  your 
book's  a  success.  ..." 

"My  poor  Susy — that's  all  part  of  the  humbug. 
We  both  know  that  my  sort  of  writing  will  never 
pay.  And  what 's  the  alternative — except  more  of 
the  same  kind  of  baseness?  And  getting  more 
and  more  blunted  to  it?  At  least,  till  now,  I've 
minded  certain  things;  I  don't  want  to  go  on  till 
I  find  myself  taking  them  for  granted. ' ' 


112      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

She  reached  out  a  timid  hand.  "But  you 
needn't  ever,  dear  ...  if  you'd  only  leave  it  to 
me.  .  .  ." 

He  drew  back  sharply.  "That  seems  simple  to 
you,  I  suppose?  Well,  men  are  different."  He 
walked  toward  the  dressing-table  and  glanced  at 
the  little  enamelled  clock  which  had  been  one  of 
her  wedding-presents. 

"Time  to  dress,  isn't  it?  Shall  you  mind  if  I 
leave  you  to  dine  with  Streffy,  and  whoever  else 
is  coming!  I'd  rather  like  a  long  tramp,  and  no 
more  talking  just  at  present — except  with  my 
self." 

He  passed  her  by  and  walked  rapidly  out  of 
the  room.  Susy  stood  motionless,  unable  to  lift 
a  detaining  hand  or  to  find  a  final  word  of  appeal. 
On  her  disordered  dressing-table  Mrs.  Vander- 
lyn's  gifts  glittered  in  the  rosy  lamp-light. 

Yes :  men  were  different,  as  he  said. 


XI 


BUT  there  were  necessary  accommodations, 
there  always  had  been;  Nick  in  old  times, 
had  been  the  first  to  own  it.  ...  How  they  had 
laughed  at  the  Perpendicular  People,  the  people 
who  went  by  on  the  other  side  (since  you  couldn't 
be  a  good  Samaritan  without  stooping  over  and 
poking  into  heaps  of  you  didn't  know  what) !  And 
now  Nick  had  suddenly  become  perpendicular. . .  . 

Susy,  that  evening,  at  the  head  of  the  dinner 
table,  saw — in  the  breaks  between  her  scudding 
thoughts — the  nauseatingly  familiar  faces  of  the 
people  she  called  her  friends:  Strefford,  Fred 
Gillow,  a  giggling  fool  of  a  young  Breckenridge, 
of  their  New  York  group,  who  had  arrived  that 
day,  and  Prince  Nerone  Altineri,  Ursula's  Prince, 
who,  in  Ursula's  absence  at  a  tiresome  cure,  had, 
quite  simply  and  naturally,  preferred  to  join  her 
husband  at  Venice.  Susy  looked  from  one  to  the 
other  of  them,  as  if  with  newly-opened  eyes,  and 
wondered  what  life  would  be  like  with  no  faces 
but  such  as  theirs  to  furnish  it.  ... 

Ah,  Nick  had  become  perpendicular !  .  .  .  After 
all,  most  people  went  through  life  making  a  given 
set  of  gestures,  like  dance-steps  learned  in  ad 
vance.  If  your  dancing  manual  told  you  at  a 
given  time  to  be  perpendicular,  you  had  to  be, 
automatically — and  that  was  Nick! 

113 


114      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"But  what  on  earth,  Susy,"  Gillow's  puzzled 
voice  suddenly  came  to  her  as  from  immeasurable 
distances,  "are  you  going  to  do  in  this  beastly 
stifling  hole  for  the  rest  of  the  summer?" 

"Ask  Nick,  my  dear  fellow,"  Strefford  an 
swered  for  her;  and :  "By  the  way,  where  is  Nick 
— if  one  may  ask?"  young  Breckenridge  inter 
posed,  glancing  up  to  take  belated  note  of  his 
host's  absence. 

"Dining  out,"  said  Susy  glibly.  "People 
turned  up:  blighting  bores  that  I  wouldn't  have 
dared  to  inflict  on  you."  How  easily  the  old  fa 
miliar  fibbing  came  to  her! 

"The  kind  to  whom  you  say,  'Now  mind  you 
look  me  up ' ;  and  then  spend  the  rest  of  your  life 
dodging — like  our  good  Hickses,"  Strefford  am 
plified. 

The  Hickses — but,  of  course,  Nick  was  with  the 
Hickses !  It  went  through  Susy  like  a  knife,  and 
the  dinner  she  had  so  lightly  fibbed  became  a  hate 
ful  truth.  She  said  to  herself  feverishly:  "I'll 
call  him  up  there  after  dinner — and  then  he  will 
feel  silly" — but  only  to  remember  that  the 
Hickses,  in  their  mediaeval  setting,  had  of  course 
sternly  denied  themselves  a  telephone. 

The  fact  of  Nick's  temporary  inaccessibility — 
since  she  was  now  convinced  that  he  was  really  at 
the  Hickses' — turned  her  distress  to  a  mocking  ir 
ritation.  Ah,  that  was  where  he  carried  his  prin 
ciples,  his  standards,  or  whatever  he  called  the 
new  set  of  rules  he  had  suddenly  begun  to  apply 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      115 

to  the  old  game !  It  was  stupid  of  her  not  to  have 
guessed  it  at  once. 

"Oh,  the  Hickses — Nick  adores  them,  you  know. 
He's  going  to  marry  Coral  next,"  she  laughed  out, 
flashing  the  joke  around  the  table  with  all  her 
practised  flippancy. 

"Lord!"  grasped  Gillow,  inarticulate :  while  the 
Prince  displayed  the  unsurprised  smile  which 
Susy  accused  him  of  practising  every  morning 
with  his  Mueller  exercises. 

Suddenly  Susy  felt  Strefford's  eyes  upon  her. 

" What's  the  matter  with  me?  Too  much 
rouge  I ' '  she  asked,  passing  her  arm  in  his  as  they 
left  the  table. 

"No:  too  little.  Look  at  yourself,"  he  an 
swered  in  a  low  tone. 

"Oh,  in  these  cadaverous  old  looking-glasses — 
everybody  looks  fished  up  from  the  canal ! ' ' 

She  jerked  away  from  him  to  spin  down  the 
long  floor  of  the  sola,  hands  on  hips,  whistling  a 
rag-time  tune.  The  Prince  and  young  Brecken- 
ridge  caught  her  up,  and  she  spun  back  with  the 
latter,  while  Gillow — it  was  believed  to  be  his  sole 
accomplishment — snapped  his  fingers  in  simula 
tion  of  bones,  and  shuffled  after  the  couple  on 
stamping  feet. 

Susy  sank  down  on  a  sofa  near  the  window,  fan 
ning  herself  with  a  floating  scarf,  and  the  men 
foraged  for  cigarettes,  and  rang  for  the  gondo 
liers,  who  came  in  with  trays  of  cooling  drinks. 

"Well,  what  next— this  ain't  all,  is  it!"  Gillow 


116      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

presently  queried,  from  the  divan  where  he  lolled 
half-asleep  with  dripping  brow.  Fred  Gillow, 
like  Nature,  abhorred  a  void,  and  it  was  incon 
ceivable  to  him  that  every  hour  of  man's  rational 
existence  should  not  furnish  a  motive  for  getting 
up  and  going  somewhere  else.  Young  Brecken- 
ridge,  who  took  the  same  view,  and  the  Prince, 
who  earnestly  desired  to,  reminded  the  company 
that  somebody  they  knew  was  giving  a  dance  that 
night  at  the  Lido. 

Strefford  vetoed  the  Lido,  on  the  ground  that 
he'd  just  come  back  from  there,  and  proposed 
that  they  should  go  out  on  foot  for  a  change. 

"Why  not?  What  fun!"  Susy  was  up  in  an 
instant.  "Let's  pay  somebody  a  surprise  visit — 
I  don't  know  who!  Streffy,  Prince,  can't  you 
think  of  somebody  who  'd  be  particularly  annoyed 
by  our  arrival  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  the  list's  too  long.  Let's  start,  and  choose 
our  victim  on  the  way, ' '  Strefford  suggested. 

Susy  ran  to  her  room  for  a  light  cloak,  and 
without  changing  her  high-heeled  satin  slippers 
went  out  with  the  four  men.  There  was  no  moon 
— thank  heaven  there  was  no  moon ! — but  the  stars 
hung  over  them  as  close  as  fruit,  and  secret  fra 
grances  dropped  on  them  from  garden-walls. 
Susy's  heart  tightened  with  memories  of  Como. 

They  wandered  on,  laughing  and  dawdling,  and 
yielding  to  the  drifting  whims  of  aimless  people. 
Presently  someone  proposed  taking  a  nearer  look 
at  the  fa§ade  of  San  Giorgio  Maggiore,  and  they 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      117 

hailed  a  gondola  and  were  rowed  out  through  the 
bobbing  lanterns  and  twanging  guitar-strings. 
When  they  landed  again,  Gillow,  always  acutely 
bored  by  scenery,  and  particularly  resentful  of 
midnight  esthetics,  suggested  a  night  club  near 
at  hand,  which  was  said  to  be  jolly.  The  Prince 
warmly  supported  this  proposal;  but  on  Susy's 
curt  refusal  they  started  their  rambling  again, 
circuitously  threading  the  vague  dark  lanes  and 
making  for  the  Piazza  and  Florian's  ices.  Sud 
denly,  at  a  ca/Ze-corner,  unfamiliar  and  yet  some 
how  known  to  her,  Susy  paused  to  stare  about  her 
with  a  laugh. 

"But  the  Hickses — surely  that's  their  palace? 
And  the  windows  all  lit  up !  They  must  be  giving 
a  party!  Oh,  do  let's  go  up  and  surprise  them!" 
The  idea  struck  her  as  one  of  the  drollest  that  she 
had  ever  originated,  and  she  wondered  that  her 
companions  should  respond  so  languidly. 

"I  can't  see  anything  very  thrilling  in  surpris 
ing  the  Hickses,"  Gillow  protested,  defrauded  of 
possible  excitements;  and  Strefford  added:  "It 
would  surprise  me  more  than  them  if  I  went." 

But  Susy  insisted  feverishly:  "You  don't  know. 
It  may  be  awfully  exciting!  I  have  an  idea  that 
Coral 's  announcing  her  engagement — her  engage 
ment  to  Nick !  Come,  give  me  a  hand,  StrefT — and 
you  the  other,  Fred — "  she  began  to  hum  the 
first  bars  of  Donna  Anna's  entrance  in  Don 
Giovanni.  "Pity  I  haven't  got  a  black  cloak  and 
a  mask.  ." 


118      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,  your  face  will  do,"  said  Strefford,  laying 
his  hand  on  her  arm. 

She  drew  back,  flushing  crimson.  Breckenridge 
and  the  Prince  had  sprung  on  ahead,  and  Gillow, 
lumbering  after  them,  was  already  halfway  up  the 
stairs. 

"My  face!  My  face?  What's  the  matter  with 
my  face?  Do  you  know  any  reason  why  I 
shouldn't  go  to  the  Hickses  to-night?"  Susy  broke 
out  in  sudden  wrath. 

"None  whatever;  except  that  if  you  do  it  will 
bore  me  to  death,"  Strefford  returned,  with  se 
renity. 

"Oh,  in  that  case—  1" 

"No;  come  on.  I  hear  those  fools  banging  on 
the  door  already."  He  caught  her  by  the  hand, 
and  they  started  up  the  stairway.  But  on  the 
first  landing  she  paused,  twisted  her  hand  out  of 
his,  and  without  a  word,  without  a  conscious 
thought,  dashed  down  the  long  flight,  across  the 
great  resounding  vestibule  and  out  into  the  dark 
ness  of  the  calle. 

Strefford  caught  up  with  her,  and  they  stood  a 
moment  silent  in  the  night. 

"Susy — what  the  devil's  the  matter?" 

"The  matter?  Can't  you  see?  That  I'm  tired, 
that  I've  got  a  splitting  headache — that  you 
bore  me  to  death,  one  and  all  of  you!"  She 
turned  and  laid  a  deprecating  hand  on  his  arm. 
"Streffy,  old  dear,  don't  mind  me:  but  for  God's 
sake  find  a  gondola  and  send  me  home." 


iHE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      119 

"Alone!" 

"Alone." 

It  was  never  any  concern  of  Streff's  if  people 
wanted  to  do  things  he  did  not  understand,  and 
she  knew  that  she  could  count  on  his  obedience. 
They  walked  on  in  silence  to  the  next  canal,  and 
he  picked  up  a  passing  gondola  and  put  her  in  it. 

"Now  go  and  amuse  yourself,"  she  called  after 
him,  as  the  boat  shot  under  the  nearest  bridge. 
Anything,  anything,  to  be  alone,  away  from  the 
folly  and  futility  that  would  be  all  she  had  left 
if  Nick  were  to  drop  out  of  her  life.  .  .  . 

"But  perhaps  he  has  dropped  already — 
dropped  for  good,"  she  thought  as  she  set  her 
foot  on  the  Vanderlyn  threshold. 

The  short  summer  night  was  already  growing 
transparent :  a  new-born  breeze  stirred  the  soiled 
surface  of  the  water  and  sent  it  lapping  freshly 
against  the  old  palace  doorways.  Nearly  two 
o'clock!  Nick  had  no  doubt  come  back  long  ago. 
Susy  hurried  up  the  stairs,  reassured  by  the  mere 
thought  of  his  nearness.  She  knew  that  when 
their  eyes  and  their  lips  met  it  would  be  impos 
sible  for  anything  to  keep  them  apart. 

The  gondolier  dozing  on  the  landing  roused 
himself  to  receive  her,  and  to  proffer  two  envel 
opes.  The  upper  one  was  a  telegram  for  Stref- 
ford:  she  threw  it  down  again  and  paused  under 
the  lantern  hanging  from  the  painted  vault,  the 
other  envelope  in  her  hand.  The  address  it  bore 
was  in  Nick's  writing. 


120      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

''When  did  the  signore  leave  this  for  me?  Has 
he  gone  out  again?" 

Gone  out  again  f  But  the  signore  had  not  come 
in  since  dinner:  of  that  the  gondolier  was  posi 
tive,  as  he  had  been  on  duty  all  the  evening.  A 
boy  had  brought  the  letter — an  unknown  boy:  he 
had  left  it  without  waiting.  It  must  have  been 
about  half  an  hour  after  the  signora  had  herself 
gone  out  with  her  guests. 

Susy,  hardly  hearing  him,  fled  on  to  her  own 
room,  and  there,  beside  the  very  lamp  which,  two 
months  before,  had  illuminated  Ellie  Vanderlyn's 
fatal  letter,  she  opened  Nick's. 

"Don't  think  me  hard  on  you,  dear;  but  I've 
got  to  work  this  thing  out  by  myself.  The  sooner 
the  better — don't  you  agree?  So  I'm  taking  the 
express  to  Milan  presently.  You'll  get  a  proper 
letter  in  a  day  or  two.  I  wTish  I  could  think,  now, 
of  something  to  say  that  would  show  you  I'm  not 
a  brute — but  I  can 't.  N.  L. " 

There  was  not  much  of  the  night  left  in  which 
to  sleep,  even  had  a  semblance  of  sleep  been 
achievable.  The  letter  fell  from  Susy's  hands, 
and  she  crept  out  onto  the  balcony  and  cowered 
there,  her  forehead  pressed  against  the  balus 
trade,  the  dawn-wind  stirring  in  her  thin  laces. 
Through  her  closed  eyelids  and  the  tightly- 
clenched  fingers  pressed  against  them,  she  felt 
the  penetration  of  the  growing  light,  the  relent 
less  advance  of  another  day — a  day  without  pur 
pose  and  without  meaning — a  day  without  Nick. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      121 

At  length  she  dropped  her  hands,  and  staring 
from  dry  lids  saw  a  rim  of  fire  above  the  roofs 
across  the  Grand  Canal.  She  sprang  up,  ran  back 
into  her  room,  and  dragging  the  heavy  curtains 
shut  across  the  windows,  stumbled  over  in  the 
darkness  to  the  lounge  and  fell  among  its  pillows 
—face  downward — groping,  delving  for  a  deeper 
night.  .  .  . 


She  started  up,  stiff  and  aching,  to  see  a  golden 
wedge  of  sun  on  the  floor  at  her  feet.  She  had 
slept,  then — was  it  possible? — it  must  be  eight  or 
nine  o'clock  already!  She  had  slept — slept  like 
a  drunkard — with  that  letter  on  the  table  at  her 
elbow !  Ah,  now  she  remembered  —  she  had 
dreamed  that  the  letter  was  a  dream !  But  there, 
inexorably,  it  lay ;  and  she  picked  it  up,  and  slowly, 
painfully  re-read  it.  Then  she  tore  it  into  shreds, 
hunted  for  a  match,  and  kneeling  before  the 
empty  hearth,  as  though  she  were  accomplishing 
some  funeral  rite,  she  burnt  every  shred  of  it  to 
ashes.  Nick  would  thank  her  for  that  some  day! 

After  a  bath  and  a  hurried  toilet  she  began  to 
be  aware  of  feeling  younger  and  more  hopeful- 
After  all,  Nick  had  merely  said  that  he  was  going 
away  for  "a  day  or  two."  And  the  letter  was  not 
cruel:  there  were  tender  things  in  it,  showing 
through  the  curt  words.  She  smiled  at  herself 
a  little  stiffly  in  the  glass,  put  a  dash  of  red  on 
her  colourless  lips,  and  rang  for  the  maid. 


122      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

* '  Coffee,  Giovanna,  please ;  and  will  yon  tell  Mr. 
Strefford  that  I  should  like  to  see  him  presently." 

If  Nick  really  kept  to  his  intention  of  staying 
away  for  a  few  days  she  must  trump  up  some 
explanation  of  his  absence ;  but  her  mind  refused 
to  work,  and  the  only  thing  she  could  think  of  was 
to  take  Strefford  into  her  confidence.  She  knew 
that  he  could  be  trusted  in  a  real  difficulty;  his 
impish  malice  transformed  itself  into  a  resource 
ful  ingenuity  when  his  friends  required  it. 

The  maid  stood  looking  at  her  with  a  puzzled 
gaze,  and  Susy  somewhat  sharply  repeated  her 
order.  "But  don't  wake  him  on  purpose,"  she 
added,  foreseeing  the  probable  effect  on  Stref 
ford 's  temper. 

"But,  signora,  the  gentleman  is  already  out." 

"Already  out!"  Strefford,  who  could  hardly  be 
routed  from  his  bed  before  luncheon- time !  "Is  it 
so  late?"  Susy  cried,  incredulous. 

"After  nine.  And  the  gentleman  took  the  eight 
o'clock  train  for  England.  Gervaso  said  he  had 
received  a  telegram.  He  left  word  that  he  would 
write  to  the  signora." 

The  door  closed  upon  the  maid,  and  Susy  con 
tinued  to  gaze  at  her  painted  image  in  the  glass, 
as  if  she  had  been  trying  to  outstare  an  impor 
tunate  stranger.  There  was  no  one  left  for  her 
to  take  counsel  of,  then — no  one  but  poor  Fred 
Gillow!  She  made  a  grimace  at  the  idea.  .  .  . 
But  what  on  earth  could  have  summoned  Stref 
ford  back  to  England? 


XII 


NICK  LANSING,  in  the  Milan  express,  was 
roused  by  the  same  bar  of  sunshine  lying 
across  his  knees.  He  yawned,  looked  with  disgust 
at  his  stolidly  sleeping  neighbours,  and  wondered 
why  he  had  decided  to  go  to  Milan,  and  what  on 
earth  he  should  do  when  he  got  there.  The  dif 
ficulty  about  trenchant  decisions  was  that  the  next 
morning  they  generally  left  one  facing  a  void.  . .  . 

When  the  train  drew  into  the  station  at  Milan, 
he  scrambled  out,  got  some  coffee,  and  having 
drunk  it  decided  to  continue  his  journey  to  Genoa. 
The  state  of  being  carried  passively  onward  post 
poned  action  and  dulled  thought;  and  after 
twelve  hours  of  furious  mental  activity  that  was 
exactly  what  he  wanted. 

He  fell  into  a  doze  again,  waking  now  and  then 
to  haggard  intervals  of  more  thinking,  and  then 
dropping  off  to  the  clank  and  rattle  of  the  train. 
Inside  his  head,  in  his  waking  intervals,  the  same 
clanking  and  grinding  of  wheels  and  chains  went 
on  unremittingly.  He  had  done  all  his  lucid  think 
ing  within  an  hour  of  leaving  the  Palazzo  Van- 
derlyn  the  night  before ;  since  then,  his  brain  had 
simply  continued  to  revolve  indefatigably  about 
the  same  old  problem.  His  cup  of  coffee,  instead 

123 


124      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

of  clearing  his  thoughts,  had  merely  accelerated 
their  pace. 

At  Genoa  he  wandered  about  in  the  hot  streets, 
bought  a  cheap  suit-case  and  some  underclothes, 
and  then  went  down  to  the  port  in  search  of  a  little 
hotel  he  remembered  there.  An  hour  later  he  was 
sitting  in  the  coffee-room,  smoking  and  glancing 
vacantly  over  the  papers  while  he  waited  for  din 
ner,  when  he  became  aware  of  being  timidly  but 
intently  examined  by  a  small  round-faced  gentle 
man  with  eyeglasses  who  sat  alone  at  the  adjoin 
ing  table. 

"Hullo — Buttles!"  Lansing  exclaimed,  recog 
nising  with  surprise  the  recalcitrant  secretary 
who  had  resisted  Miss  Hicks 's  endeavour  to  con 
vert  him  to  Tiepolo. 

Mr.  Buttles,  blushing  to  the  roots  of  his  scant 
hair,  half  rose  and  bowed  ceremoniously. 

Nick  Lansing's  first  feeling  was  of  annoyance 
at  being  disturbed  in  his  solitary  broodings;  his 
next,  of  relief  at  having  to  postpone  them  even  to 
converse  with  Mr.  Buttles. 

"No  idea  you  were  here:  is  the  yacht  in  har 
bour!"  he  asked,  remembering  that  the  Ibis  must 
be  just  about  to  spread  her  wings. 

Mr.  Buttles,  at  salute  behind  his  chair,  signed 
a  mute  negation:  for  the  moment  he  seemed  too 
embarrassed  to  speak. 

"Ah — you're  here  as  an  advance  guard?  I  re 
member  now — I  saw  Miss  Hicks  in  Venice  the 
day  before  yesterday,"  Lansing  continued,  dazed 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      125 

at  the  thought  that  hardly  forty-eight  hours 
had  passed  since  his  encounter  with  Coral  in  the 
Scalzi. 

Mr.  Buttles,  instead  of  speaking,  had  tenta 
tively  approached  his  table.  "May  I  take  this 
seat  for  a  moment,  Mr.  Lansing?  Thank  you. 
No,  I  am  not  here  as  an  advance  guard — though 
I  believe  the  Ibis  is  due  some  time  to-morrow." 
He  cleared  his  throat,  wiped  his  eyeglasses  on  a 
silk  handkerchief,  replaced  them  on  his  nose,  and 
went  on  solemnly:  " Perhaps,  to  clear  up  any 
possible  misunderstanding,  I  ought  to  say  that  I 
am  no  longer  in  the  employ  of  Mr.  Hicks." 

Lansing  glanced  at  him  sympathetically.  It 
was  clear  that  he  suffered  horribly  in  imparting 
this  information,  though  his  compact  face  did  not 
lend  itself  to  any  dramatic  display  of  emotion. 

"BeaHy?"  Nick  smiled,  and  then  ventured:  "I 
hope  it's  not  owing  to  conscientious  objections  to 
Tiepolof" 

Mr.  Buttles 's  blush  became  a  smouldering 
agony.  "Ah,  Miss  Hicks  mentioned  to  you  .  .  . 
told  you  .  .  .  f  No,  Mr.  Lansing.  I  am  prin 
cipled  against  the  effete  art  of  Tiepolo,  and  of 
all  his  contemporaries,  I  confess;  but  if  Miss 
Hicks  chooses  to  surrender  herself  momentarily 
to  the  unwholesome  spell  of  the  Italian  decadence 
it  is  not  for  me  to  protest  or  to  criticize.  Her  in 
tellectual  and  aesthetic  range  so  far  exceeds  my 
humble  capacity  that  it  would  be  ridiculous,  un 
becoming.  .  .  ." 


126      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

He  broke  off,  and  once  more  wiped  a  faint  mois 
ture  from  his  eyeglasses.  It  was  evident  that  he 
was  suffering  from  a  distress  which  he  longed 
and  yet  dreaded  to  communicate.  But  Nick  made 
no  farther  effort  to  bridge  the  gulf  of  his  own  pre 
occupations;  and  Mr.  Buttles,  after  an  expectant 
pause,  went  on :  "  If  you  see  me  here  to-day  it  is 
only  because,  after  a  somewhat  abrupt  departure, 
I  find  myself  unable  to  take  leave  of  our  friends 
without  a  last  look  at  the  Ibis — the  scene  of  so 
many  stimulating  hours.  But  I  must  beg  you," 
he  added  earnestly,  "should  you  see  Miss  Hicks 
— or  any  other  member  of  the  party — to  make  no 
allusion  to  my  presence  in  Genoa.  I  wish,"  said 
Mr.  Buttles  with  simplicity,  "to  preserve  the 
strictest  incognito." 

Lansing  glanced  at  him  kindly.  "Oh,  but 
— isn't  that  a  little  unfriendly?" 

"No  other  course  is  possible,  Mr.  Lansing," 
said  the  ex-secretary,  "and  I  commit  myself  to 
your  discretion.  The  truth  is,  if  I  am  here  it  is 
not  to  look  once  more  at  the  Ibis,  but  at  Miss 
Hicks:  once  only.  You  will  understand  me,  and 
appreciate  what  I  am  suffering." 

He  bowed  again,  and  trotted  away  on  his  small, 
tightly-booted  feet;  pausing  on  the  threshold  to 
say:  "From  the  first  it  was  hopeless,"  before  he 
disappeared  through  the  glass  doors. 

A  gleam  of  commiseration  flashed  through 
Nick's  mind:  there  was  something  quaintly  poign 
ant  in  the  sight  of  the  brisk  and  efficient  Mr. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      127 

Buttles  reduced  to  a  limp  image  of  unrequited 
passion.  And  what  a  painful  surprise  to  the 
Hickses  to  be  thus  suddenly  deprived  of  the  sec 
retary  who  possessed  "the  foreign  languages"! 
Mr.  Beck  kept  the  accounts  and  settled  with  the 
hotel-keepers ;  but  it  was  Mr.  Buttles 's  loftier  task 
to  entertain  in  their  own  tongues  the  unknown 
geniuses  who  flocked  about  the  Hickses,  and  Nick 
could  imagine  how  disconcerting  his  departure 
must  be  on  the  eve  of  their  Grecian  cruise — which 
Mrs.  Hicks  would  certainly  call  an  Odyssey. 

The  next  moment  the  vision  of  Coral's  hopeless 
Buitor  had  faded,  and  Nick  was  once  more  spin 
ning  around  on  the  wheel  of  his  own  woes.  The 
night  before,  when  he  had  sent  his  note  to  Susy, 
from  a  little  restaurant  close  to  Palazzo  Van- 
derlyn  that  they  often  patronized,  he  had  done  so 
with  the  firm  intention  of  going  away  for  a  day 
or  two  in  order  to  collect  his  wits  and  think  over 
the  situation.  But  after  his  letter  had  been  en 
trusted  to  the  landlord's  little  son,  who  was  a  par 
ticular  friend  of  Susy's,  Nick  had  decided  to  await 
the  lad's  return.  The  messenger  had  not  been 
bidden  to  ask  for  an  answer;  but  Nick,  knowing 
the  friendly  and  inquisitive  Italian  mind,  was  al 
most  sure  that  the  boy,  in  the  hope  of  catching 
a  glimpse  of  Susy,  would  linger  about  while  the 
letter  was  carried  up.  And  he  pictured  the  maid 
knocking  at  his  wife's  darkened  room,  and  Susy 
dashing  some  powder  on  her  tear-stained  face 
before  she  turned  on  the  light — poor  foolish  child ! 


128      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

The  boy  had  returned  rather  sooner  than  Nick 
expected,  and  he  had  brought  no  answer,  but 
merely  the  statement  that  the  signora  was  out: 
that  everybody  was  out. 

11  Everybody  I" 

'  *  The  signora  and  the  four  gentlemen  who  were 
dining  at  the  palace.  They  all  went  out  together 
on  foot  soon  after  dinner.  There  was  no  one  to 
whom  I  could  give  the  note  but  the  gondolier  on 
the  landing,  for  the  signora  had  said  she  would 
be  very  late,  and  had  sent  the  maid  to  bed;  and 
the  maid  had,  of  course,  gone  out  immediately 
with  her  innamorato." 

"Ah — "  said  Nick,  slipping  his  reward  into  the 
boy's  hand,  and  walking  out  of  the  restaurant. 

Susy  had  gone  out — gone  out  with  their  usual 
band,  as  she  did  every  night  in  these  sultry  sum 
mer  weeks,  gone  out  after  her  talk  with  Nick,  as 
if  nothing  had  happened,  as  if  his  whole  world  and 
hers  had  not  crashed  in  ruins  at  their  feet.  Ah, 
poor  Susy !  After  all,  she  had  merely  obeyed  the 
instinct  of  self-preservation,  the  old  hard  habit 
of  keeping  up,  going  ahead  and  hiding  her 
troubles;  unless  indeed  the  habit  had  already  en 
gendered  indifference,  and  it  had  become  as  easy 
for  her  as  for  most  of  her  friends  to  pass  from 
drama  to  dancing,  from  sorrow  to  the  cinema. 
What  of  soul  was  left,  he  wondered — ? 

His  train  did  not  start  till  midnight,  and  after 
leaving  the  restaurant  Nick  tramped  the  sultry 
by-ways  till  his  tired  legs  brought  him  to  a  stand- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      129 

still  under  the  vine-covered  pergola  of  a  gondo 
lier's  wine-shop  at  a  landing  close  to  the  Piaz- 
zetta.  There  he  could  absorb  cooling  drinks  until 
it  was  time  to  go  to  the  station. 

It  was  after  eleven,  and  he  was  beginning  to 
look  about  for  a  boat,  when  a  black  prow  pushed 
up  to  the  steps,  and  with  much  chaff  and  laughter 
a  party  of  young  people  in  evening  dress  jumped 
out.  Nick,  from  under  the  darkness  of  the  vine, 
saw  that  there  was  only  one  lady  among  them, 
and  it  did  not  need  the  lamp  above  the  landing  to 
reveal  her  identity.  Susy,  bareheaded  and  laugh 
ing,  a  light  scarf  slipping  from  her  bare  shoul 
ders,  a  cigarette  between  her  fingers,  took  Stref- 
ford's  arm  and  turned  in  the  direction  of  Flo- 
rian's,  with  Gillow,  the  Prince  and  young  Breck- 
enridge  in  her  wake.  .  .  . 

Nick  had  relived  this  rapid  scene  hundreds  of 
times  during  his  hours  in  the  train  and  his  aimless 
trainpings  through  the  streets  of  Genoa.  In  that 
squirrel- wheel  of  a  world  of  his  and  Susy's  you 
had  to  keep  going  or  drop  out — and  Susy,  it  was 
evident,  had  chosen  to  keep  going.  Under  the 
lamp-flare  on  the  landing  he  had  had  a  good  look 
at  her  face,  and  had  seen  that  the  mask  of  paint 
and  powder  was  carefully  enough  adjusted  to  hide 
any  ravages  the  scene  between  them  might  have 
left.  He  even  fancied  that  she  had  dropped  a 
little  atropine  into  her  eyes.  .  .  . 

There  was  no  time  to  spare  if  he  meant  to 


130      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

catch  the  midnight  train,  and  no  gondola  in  sight 
but  that  which  his  wife  had  just  left.  He  sprang 
into  it,  and  bade  the  gondolier  carry  him  to  the 
station.  The  cushions,  as  he  leaned  back,  gave 
out  a  breath  of  her  scent ;  and  in  the  glare  of  elec 
tric  light  at  the  station  he  saw  at  his  feet  a  rose 
which  had  fallen  from  her  dress.  He  ground  his 
heel  into  it  as  he  got  out. 

There  it  was,  then;  that  was  the  last  picture 
he  was  to  have  of  her.  For  he  knew  now  that  he 
was  not  going  back;  at  least  not  to  take  up  their 
life  together.  He  supposed  he  should  have  to  see 
her  once,  to  talk  things  over,  settle  something  for 
their  future.  He  had  been  sincere  in  saying  that 
he  bore  her  no  ill-will;  only  he  could  never  go 
back  into  that  slough  again.  If  he  did,  he  knew 
he  would  inevitably  be  drawn  under,  slipping 
downward  from  concession  to  concession.  .  .  . 

The  noises  of  a  hot  summer  night  in  the  port 
of  Genoa  would  have  kept  the  most  care-free  from 
slumber;  but  though  Nick  lay  awake  he  did  not 
notice  them,  for  the  tumult  in  his  brain  was  more 
deafening.  Dawn  brought  a  negative  relief,  and 
out  of  sheer  weariness  he  dropped  into  a  heavy 
sleep.  When  he  woke  it  was  nearly  noon,  and 
from  his  window  he  saw  the  well-known  outline 
of  the  Ibis  standing  up  dark  against  the  glitter 
of  the  harbour.  He  had  no  fear  of  meeting  her 
owners,  who  had  doubtless  long  since  landed  and 
betaken  themselves  to  cooler  and  more  fashion- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      131 

able  regions :  oddly  enough,  the  fact  seemed  to  ac 
centuate  his  loneliness,  his  sense  of  having  no  one 
on  earth  to  turn  to.  He  dressed,  and  wandered 
out  disconsolately  to  pick  up  a  cup  of  coffee  in 
some  shady  corner. 

As  he  drank  his  coffee  his  thoughts  gradually 
cleared.  It  became  obvious  to  him  that  he  had  be 
haved  like  a  madman  or  a  petulant  child — he  pre 
ferred  to  think  it  was  like  a  madman.  If  he  and 
Susy  were  to  separate  there  was  no  reason  why 
it  should  not  be  done  decently  and  quietly,  as  such 
transactions  were  habitually  managed  among 
people  of  their  kind.  It  seemed  grotesque  to  in 
troduce  melodrama  into  their  little  world  of  un 
ruffled  Sybarites,  and  he  felt  inclined,  now,  to 
smile  at  the  incongruity  of  his  gesture.  .  .  .  But 
suddenly  his  eyes  filled  with  tears.  The  future 
without  Susy  was  unbearable,  inconceivable. 
"Why,  after  all,  should  they  separate!  At  the 
question,  her  soft  face  seemed  close  to  his,  and 
that  slight  lift  of  the  upper  lip  that  made  her 
smile  so  exquisite.  Well — he  would  go  back. 
But  not  with  any  pretence  of  going  to  talk  things 
over,  come  to  an  agreement,  wind  up  their  joint 
life  like  a  business  association.  No — if  he  went 
back  he  would  go  without  conditions,  for  good, 
forever.  .  .  . 

Only,  what  about  the  future?  What  about  the 
not  far-distant  day  when  the  wedding  cheques 
would  have  been  spent,  and  Granny's  pearls  sold, 
and  nothing  left  except  unconcealed  and  uncondi- 


132      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

tional  dependence  on  rich  friends,  the  role  of  the 
acknowledged  hangers-on?  Was  there  no  other 
possible  solution,  no  new  way  of  ordering  their 
lives  ?  No — there  was  none :  he  could  not  picture 
Susy  out  of  her  setting  of  luxury  and  leisure, 
could  not  picture  either  of  them  living  such  a  life 
as  the  Nat  Fulmers,  for  instance!  He  remem 
bered  the  shabby  untidy  bungalow  in  New  Hamp 
shire,  the  slatternly  servants,  uneatable  food  and 
ubiquitous  children.  How  could  he  ask  Susy  to 
share  such  a  life  with  him?  If  he  did,  she  would 
probably  have  the  sense  to  refuse.  Their  alliance 
had  been  based  on  a  moment's  midsummer  mad 
ness  ;  now  the  score  must  be  paid.  .  .  . 

He  decided  to  write.  If  they  were  to  part  he 
could  not  trust  himself  to  see  her.  He  called  a 
waiter,  asked  for  pen  and  paper,  and  pushed  aside 
a  pile  of  unread  newspapers  on  the  corner  of  the 
table  where  his  coffee  had  been  served.  As  he 
did  so,  his  eye  lit  on  a  Daily  Mail  of  two  days 
before.  As  a  pretext  for  postponing  his  letter, 
he  took  up  the  paper  and  glanced  down  the  first 
page.  He  read : 

"Tragic  Yachting  Accident  in  the  Solent.  The 
Earl  of  Altringham  and  his  son  Viscount  d'Am- 
blay  drowned  in  midnight  collision.  Both  bodies 
recovered." 


He  read  on.    He  grasped  the  fact  that  the  dis 
aster  had  happened  the  night  before  he  had  left 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      133 

Venice — and  that,  as  the  result  of  a  fog  in  the 
Solent,  their  old  friend  Strefford  was  now  Earl 
of  Altringham,  and  possessor  of  one  of  the  largest 
private  fortunes  in  England.  It  was  vertiginous 
to  think  of  their  old  impecunious  Streff  as  the 
hero  of  such  an  adventure.  And  what  irony  in 
that  double  turn  of  the  wheel  which,  in  one  day, 
had  plunged  him,  Nick  Lansing,  into  nether 
most  misery,  while  it  tossed  the  other  to  the 
stars! 

With  an  intenser  precision  he  saw  again  Susy's 
descent  from  the  gondola  at  the  calle  steps,  the 
sound  of  her  laughter  and  of  Streff  ord's  chaff, 
the  way  she  had  caught  his  arm  and  clung  to  it, 
sweeping  the  other  men  on  in  her  train.  Stref 
ford — Susy  and  Strefford!  .  .  .  More  than  once, 
Nick  had  noticed  the  softer  inflections  of  his 
friend's  voice  when  he  spoke  to  Susy,  the  brood 
ing  look  in  his  lazy  eyes  when  they  rested  on  her. 
In  the  security  of  his  wedded  bliss  Nick  had  made 
light  of  those  signs.  The  only  real  jealousy  he 
had  felt  had  been  of  Fred  Gillow,  because  of  his 
unlimited  power  to  satisfy  a  woman's  whims. 
Yet  Nick  knew  that  such  material  advantages 
would  never  again  suffice  for  Susy.  With  Stref 
ford  it  was  different.  She  had  delighted  in  his 
society  while  he  was  notoriously  ineligible ;  might 
not  she  find  him  irresistible  now? 

The  forgotten  terms  of  their  bridal  compact 
came  back  to  Nick:  the  absurd  agreement  on 
which  he  and  Susy  had  solemnly  pledged  their 


134      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

faith.  But  was  it  so  absurd,  after  all?  It  had 
been  Susy's  suggestion  (not  his,  thank  God!); 
and  perhaps  in  making  it  she  had  been  more 
serious  than  he  imagined.  Perhaps,  even  if  their 
rupture  had  not  occurred,  Strefford's  sudden 
honours  might  have  caused  her  to  ask  for  her 
freedom.  .  .  . 

Money,  luxury,  fashion,  pleasure:  those  were 
the  four  cornerstones  of  her  existence.  He  had 
always  known  it — she  herself  had  always  ac 
knowledged  it,  even  in  their  last  dreadful  talk  to 
gether  ;  and  once  he  had  gloried  in  her  frankness. 
How  could  he  ever  have  imagined  that,  to  have 
her  fill  of  these  things,  she  would  not  in  time  stoop 
lower  than  she  had  yet  stooped?  Perhaps  in  giv 
ing  her  up  to  Strefford  he  might  be  saving  her. 
At  any  rate,  the  taste  of  the  past  was  now  so  bit 
ter  to  him  that  he  was  moved  to  thank  whatever 
gods  there  were  for  pushing  that  mortuary  para 
graph  under  his  eye.  .  .  . 

1  'Susy,  dear  [he  wrote],  the  fates  seem  to  have 
taken  our  future  in  hand,  and  spared  us  the 
trouble  of  unravelling  it.  If  I  have  sometimes 
been  selfish  enough  to  forget  the  conditions  on 
which  you  agreed  to  marry  me,  they  have  come 
back  to  me  during  these  two  days  of  solitude. 
You've  given  me  the  best  a  man  can  have,  and 
nothing  else  will  ever  be  worth  much  to  me.  But 
since  I  haven't  the  ability  to  provide  you  with 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      135 

what  you  want,  I  recognize  that  I've  no  right  to 
stand  in  your  way.  We  must  owe  no  more  Vene 
tian  palaces  to  underhand  services.  I  see  by  the 
newspapers  that  Streff  can  now  give  you  as  many 
palaces  as  you  want.  Let  him  have  the  chance — 
I  fancy  he'll  jump  at  it,  and  he's  the  best  man 
in  sight.  I  wish  I  were  in  his  shoes. 

"I'll  write  again  in  a  day  or  two,  when  I've 
collected  my  wits,  and  can  give  you  an  address. 
NICK." 

He  added  a  line  on  the  subject  of  their  modest 
funds,  put  the  letter  into  an  envelope,  and  ad 
dressed  it  to  Mrs.  Nicholas  Lansing.  As  he  did 
so,  he  reflected  that  it  was  the  first  time  he  had 
ever  written  his  wife 's  married  name. 

"Well — by  God,  no  other  woman  shall  have  it 
after  her,"  he  vowed,  as  he  groped  in  his  pocket- 
book  for  a  stamp. 

He  stood  up  with  a  stretch  of  weariness — the 
heat  was  stifling! — and  put  the  letter  in  his 
pocket. 

"I'll  post  it  myself,  it's  safer,"  he  thought; 
"and  then  what  in  the  name  of  goodness  shall  I 
do  next,  I  wonder?"  He  jammed  his  hat  down 
on  his  head  and  walked  out  into  the  sun-blaze. 

As  he  was  turning  away  from  the  square  by  the 
general  Post  Office,  a  white  parasol  waved  from 
a  passing  cab,  and  Coral  Hicks  leaned  forward 
with  outstretched  hand. 


136      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"I  knew  I'd  find  you,"  she  triumphed.  "I've 
been  driving  up  and  down  in  this  broiling  sun  for 
hours,  shopping  and  watching  for  you  at  the  same 
time." 

He  stared  at  her  blankly,  too  bewildered  even 
to  wonder  how  she  knew  he  was  in  Genoa;  and 
she  continued,  wdth  the  kind  of  shy  imperiousness 
that  always  made  him  feel,  in  her  presence,  like 
a  member  of  an  orchestra  under  a  masterful 
baton;  "Now  please  get  right  into  this  car 
riage,  and  don't  keep  me  roasting  here  another 
minute."  To  the  cab-driver  she  called  out:  " Al 
porto." 

Nick  Lansing  sank  down  beside  her.  As  he 
did  so  he  noticed  a  heap  of  bundles  at  her  feet, 
and  felt  that  he  had  simply  added  one  more  to 
the  number.  He  supposed  that  she  was  taking 
her  spoils  to  the  l~bis,  and  that  he  would 
be  carried  up  to  the  deck-house  to  be  displayed 
with  the  others.  Well,  it  would  all  help  to  pass 
the  day — and  by  night  he  would  have  reached 
some  kind  of  a  decision  about  his  future. 

On  the  third  day  after  Nick's  departure  the 
post  brought  to  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn  three 
letters  for  Mrs.  Lansing. 

The  first  to  arrive  was  a  word  from  Strefford, 
scribbled  in  the  train  and  posted  at  Turin.  In  it 
he  briefly  said  that  he  had  been  called  home  by 
the  dreadful  accident  of  which  Susy  had  probably 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      137 

read  in  the  daily  papers.  He  added  that  he  would 
write  again  from  England,  and  then — in  a  blotted 
postscript — :  "I  wanted  uncommonly  badly  to 
see  you  for  good-bye,  but  the  hour  was  impossible. 
Regards  to  Nick.  Do  write  me  just  a  word  to  Al- 
tringham." 

The  other  two  letters,  which  came  together  in 
the  afternoon,  were  both  from  Genoa.  Susy 
scanned  the  addresses  and  fell  upon  the  one  in 
her  husband's  writing.  Her  hand  trembled  so 
much  that  for  a  moment  she  could  not  open  the 
envelope.  When  she  had  done  so,  she  devoured 
the  letter  in  a  flash,  and  then  sat  and  brooded  over 
the  outspread  page  as  it  lay  on  her  knee.  It 
might  mean  so  many  things — she  could  read  into 
it  so  many  harrowing  alternatives  of  indifference 
and  despair,  of  irony  and  tenderness!  Was  he 
suffering  tortures  when  he  wrote  it,  or  seeking 
only  to  inflict  them  upon  hert  Or  did  the  words 
represent  his  actual  feelings,  no  more  and  no  less, 
and  did  he  really  intend  her  to  understand  that 
he  considered  it  his  duty,  to  abide  by  the  letter 
of  their  preposterous  compact?  He  had  left  her 
in  wrath  and  indignation,  yet,  as  a  closer  scrutiny 
revealed,  there  was  not  a  word  of  reproach  in  his 
brief  lines.  Perhaps  that  was  why,  in  the  last 
issue,  they  seemed  so  cold  to  her.  .  .  She  shivered 
and  turned  to  the  other  envelope. 

The  large  stilted  characters,  though  half-fa 
miliar,  called  up  no  definite  image.  She  opened 


138      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  envelope  and  discovered  a  post-card  of  the 
Ibis,  canvas  spread,  bounding  over  a  rippled  sea. 
On  the  back  was  written : 

* '  So  awfully  dear  of  you  to  lend  us  Mr.  Lansing 
for  a  little  cruise.  You  may  count  on  our  taking 
the  best  of  care  of  him.  COKAL." 


PAET  H 


XIII 

WHEN  Violet  Melrose  had  said  to  Susy 
Branch,  the  winter  before  in  New  York: 
"But  why  on  earth  don't  you  and  Nick  go  to  my 
little  place  at  Versailles  for  the  honeymoon?  I'm 
off  to  China,  and  you  could  have  it  to  yourselves 
all  summer, ' '  the  offer  had  been  tempting  enough 
to  make  the  lovers  waver. 

It  was  such  an  artless  ingenuous  little  house, 
so  full  of  the  demoralizing  simplicity  of  great 
wealth,  that  it  seemed  to  Susy  just  the  kind  of 
place  in  which  to  take  the  first  steps  in  renuncia 
tion.  But  Nick  had  objected  that  Paris,  at  that 
time  of  year,  would  be  swarming  with  acquaint 
ances  who  would  hunt  them  down  at  all  hours; 
and  Susy's  own  experience  had  led  her  to  remark 
that  there  was  nothing  the  very  rich  enjoyed  more 
than  taking  pot-luck  with  the  very  poor.  They 
therefore  gave  Strefford's  villa  the  preference, 
with  an  inward  proviso  (on  Susy's  part)  that 
Violet's  house  might  very  conveniently  serve  their 
purpose  at  another  season. 

These  thoughts  were  in  her  mind  as  she  drove 
up  to  Mrs.  Melrose 's  door  on  a  rainy  afternoon 
late  in  August,  her  boxes  piled  high  on  the  roof 
of  the  cab  she  had  taken  at  the  station.  She  had 
travelled  straight  through  from  Venice,  stopping 

141 


142      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

in  Milan  just  long  enough  to  pick  up  a  reply  to  the 
telegram  she  had  despatched  to  the  perfect  house 
keeper  whose  permanent  presence  enabled  Mrs. 
Melrose  to  say:  "Oh,  when  I'm  sick  of  everything 
I  just  rush  off  without  warning  to  my  little  shanty 
at  Versailles,  and  live  there  all  alone  on  scrambled 
eggs.'* 

The  perfect  house-keeper  had  replied  to  Susy's 
enquiry:  "Am  sure  Mrs.  Melrose  most  happy"; 
and  Susy,  without  further  thought,  had  jumped 
into  a  Versailles  train,  and  now  stood  in  the  thin 
rain  before  the  sphinx-guarded  threshold  of  the 
pavilion. 

The  revolving  year  had  brought  around  the  sea 
son  at  which  Mrs.  Melrose 's  house  might  be  con 
venient:  no  visitors  were  to  be  feared  at  Ver 
sailles  at  the  end  of  August,  and  though  Susy's 
reasons  for  seeking  solitude  were  so  remote  from 
those  she  had  once  prefigured,  they  were  none  the 
less  cogent.  To  be  alone — alone!  After  those 
first  exposed  days  when,  in  the  persistent  pres 
ence  of  Fred  Gillow  and  his  satellites,  and  in  the 
mocking  radiance  of  late  summer  on  the  lagoons, 
she  had  turned  and  turned  about  in  her  agony 
like  a  trapped  animal  in  a  cramping  cage,  to  be 
alone  had  seemed  the  only  respite,  the  one  crav 
ing:  to  be  alone  somewhere  in  a  setting  as  unlike 
as  possible  to  the  sensual  splendours  of  Venice, 
under  skies  as  unlike  its  azure  roof.  If  she  could 
have  chosen  she  would  have  crawled  away  into 
a  dingy  inn  in  a  rainy  northern  town,  where 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      143 

she  had  never  been  and  no  one  knew  her.  Fail 
ing  that  unobtainable  luxury,  here  she  was  on  the 
threshold  of  an  empty  house,  in  a  deserted  place, 
under  lowering  skies.  She  had  shaken  off  Fred 
Gillow,  sulkily  departing  for  his  moor  (where  she 
had  half-promised  to  join  him  in  September) ;  the 
Prince,  young  Breckenridge,  and  the  few  remain 
ing  survivors  of  the  Venetian  group,  had  dis 
persed  in  the  direction  of  the  Engadine  or  Biar 
ritz;  and  now  she  could  at  least  collect  her  wits, 
take  stock  of  herself,  and  prepare  the  counte 
nance  with  which  she  was  to  face  the  next  stage 
in  her  career.  Thank  God  it  was  raining  at 
Versailles ! 

The  door  opened,  she  heard  voices  in  the  draw 
ing-room,  and  a  slender  languishing  figure  ap 
peared  on  the  threshold. 

" Darling!"  Violet  Melrose  cried  in  an  embrace, 
drawing  her  into  the  dusky  perfumed  room. 

"But  I  thought  you  were  in  China !"  Susy  stam 
mered. 

"In  China  ...  in  China?"  Mrs.  Melrose 
stared  with  dreamy  eyes,  and  Susy  remembered 
her  drifting  disorganised  life,  a  life  more  plan 
less,  more  inexplicable  than  that  of  any  of  the 
other  ephemeral  beings  blown  about  upon  the 
same  winds  of  pleasure. 

"Well,  Madam,  I  thought  so  myself  till  I  got 
a  wire  from  Mrs.  Melrose  last  evening, ' '  remarked 
the  perfect  house-keeper,  following  with  Susy's 
hand-bag. 


144      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Mrs.  Melrose  clutched  her  cavernous  temples 
in  her  attenuated  hands.  * '  Of  course,  of  course ! 
I  liad  meant  to  go  to  China — no,  India.  .  .  .  But 
I've  discovered  a  genius  .  .  .  and  Genius,  you 
know.  ..."  Unable  to  complete  her  thought,  she 
sank  down  upon  a  pillowy  divan,  stretched  out  an 
arm,  cried :  ' '  Fulmer !  Fulmer ! ' '  and,  while  Susy 
Lansing  stood  in  the  middle  of  the  room  with  wid 
ening  eyes,  a  man  emerged  from  the  more  deeply 
cushioned  and  scented  twilight  of  some  inner 
apartment,  and  she  saw  with  surprise  Nat  Ful 
mer,  the  good  Nat  Fulmer  of  the  New  Hampshire 
bungalow  and  the  ubiquitous  progeny,  standing 
before  her  in  lordly  ease,  his  hands  in  his  pockets, 
a  cigarette  between  his  lips,  his  feet  solidly 
planted  in  the  insidious  depths  of  one  of  Violet 
Melrose 's  white  leopard  skins. 

*  *  Susy ! ' '  he  shouted  with  open  arms ;  and  Mrs. 
Melrose  murmured:  "You  didn't  know,  then? 
You  hadn't  heard  of  his  masterpieces?" 

In  spite  of  herself,  Susy  burst  into  a  laugh. 
"Is  Nat  your  genius?" 

Mrs.  Melrose  looked  at  her  reproachfully. 

Fulmer  laughed.  "No;  I'm  Grace's.  But  Mrs. 
Melrose  has  been  our  Providence,  and.  ..." 

'  *  Providence  ? ' '  his  hostess  interrupted.  * '  Don 't 
talk  as  if  you  were  at  a  prayer-meeting!  He  had 
an  exhibition  in  New  York  ...  it  was  the  most 
fabulous  success.  He's  come  abroad  to  make 
studies  for  the  decoration  of  my  music-room  in 
New  York.  Ursula  Gillow  has  given  him  her 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      145 

garden-house  at  Roslyn  to  do.  And  Mrs.  Bock- 
heimer's  ball-room — oh,  Fulmer,  where  are  the 
cartoons?"  She  sprang  up,  tossed  about  some 
fashion-papers  heaped  on  a  lacquer  table,  and 
sank  back  exhausted  by  the  effort.  "I'd  got  as 
far  as  Brindisi.  I've  travelled  day  and  night  to 
be  here  to  meet  him,"  she  declared.  "But,  you 
darling,"  and  she  held  out  a  caressing  hand 
to  Susy,  "I'm  forgetting  to  ask  if  you've  had 
tea?" 

An  hour  later,  over  the  tea-table,  Susy  already 
felt  herself  mysteriously  reabsorbed  into  what 
had  so  long  been  her  native  element.  Ellie  Van- 
derlyn  had  brought  a  breath  of  it  to  Venice;  but 
Susy  was  then  nourished  on  another  air,  the  air 
of  Nick's  presence  and  personality;  now  that  she 
was  abandoned,  left  again  to  her  own  devices,  she 
felt  herself  suddenly  at  the  mercy  of  the  influences 
from  which  she  thought  she  had  escaped. 

In  the  queer  social  whirligig  from  which  she 
had  so  lately  fled,  it  seemed  natural  enough  that  a 
shake  of  the  box  should  have  tossed  Nat  Fulmer 
into  celebrity,  and  sent  Violet  Melrose  chasing 
back  from  the  ends  of  the  earth  to  bask  in  his  suc 
cess.  Susy  knew  that  Mrs.  Melrose  belonged  to 
the  class  of  moral  parasites;  for  in  that  strange 
world  the  parts  were  sometimes  reversed,  and  the 
wealthy  preyed  upon  the  pauper.  Wherever  there 
was  a  reputation  to  batten  on,  there  poor  Violet 
appeared,  a  harmless  vampire  in  pearls  who 
sought  only  to  feed  on  the  notoriety  which  all  her 


146      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

millions  could  not  create  for  her.  Any  one  less 
versed  than  Susy  in  the  shallow  mysteries  of  her 
little  world  would  have  seen  in  Violet  Melrose  a 
"baleful  enchantress,  in  Nat  Fulmer  her  helpless 
victim.  Susy  knew  better.  Violet,  poor  Violet, 
was  not  even  that.  The  insignificant  Ellie  Van- 
derlyn,  with  her  brief  trivial  passions,  her  artless 
mixture  of  amorous  and  social  interests,  was  a 
woman  with  a  purpose,  a  creature  who  fulfilled 
herself ;  but  Violet  was  only  a  drifting  interroga 
tion. 

And  what  of  Fulmer !  Mustering  with  new  eyes 
his  short  sturdily-built  figure,  his  nondescript 
bearded  face,  and  the  eyes  that  dreamed  and  wan 
dered,  and  then  suddenly  sank  into  you  like  claws, 
Susy  seemed  to  have  found  the  key  to  all  his  years 
of  dogged  toil,  his  indifference  to  neglect,  indif 
ference  to  poverty,  indifference  to  the  needs  of  his 
growing  family.  .  .  .  Yes:  for  the  first  time  she 
saw  that  he  looked  commonplace  enough  to  be  a 
genius — was  a  genius,  perhaps,  even  though  it 
was  Violet  Melrose  who  affirmed  it !  Susy  looked 
steadily  at  Fulmer,  their  eyes  met,  and  he  smiled 
at  her  faintly  through  his  beard. 

"Yes,  I  did  discover  him — I  did,"  Mrs.  Melrose 
was  insisting,  from  the  depths  of  the  black  velvet 
divan  in  which  she  lay  sunk  like  a  wan  Nereid  in 
a  midnight  sea.  "You  mustn't  believe  a  word 
that  Ursula  Gillow  tells  you  about  having  pounced 
on  his  'Spring  Snow  Storm'  in  a  dark  corner  of 
the  American  Artists'  exhibition — skied,  if  you 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      147 

please!  They  skied  him  less  than  a  year  ago! 
And  naturally  Ursula  never  in  her  life  looked 
higher  than  the  first  line  at  a  picture-show.  And 
now  she  actually  pretends  ...  oh,  for  pity's  sake 
don't  say  it  doesn't  matter,  Fulmer !  Your  saying 
that  just  encourages  her,  and  makes  people  think 
she  did.  When,  in  reality,  any  one  who  saw  me  at 
the  exhibition  on  varnishing-day.  .  .  .  Who? 
Well,  Eddy  Breckenridge,  for  instance.  He  was 
in  Egypt,  you  say?  Perhaps  he  was!  As  if  one 
could  remember  the  people  about  one,  when  sud 
denly  one  comes  upon  a  great  work  of  art,  as  St. 
Paul  did — didn't  he? — and  the  scales  fell  from 
his  eyes.  Well  .  .  .  that 's  exactly  what  happened 
to  me  that  day  .  .  .  and  Ursula,  everybody 
knows,  was  down  at  Roslyn  at  the  time,  and  didn't 
come  up  for  the  opening  of  the  exhibition  at  all. 
And  Fulmer  sits  there  and  laughs,  and  says  it 
doesn't  matter,  and  that  he'll  paint  another  pic 
ture  any  day  for  me  to  discover ! ' ' 

Susy  had  rung  the  door-bell  with  a  hand  trem 
bling  with  eagerness — eagerness  to  be  alone,  to  be 
quiet,  to  stare  her  situation  in  the  face,  and  col 
lect  herself  before  she  came  out  again  among  hep 
kind.  She  had  stood  on  the  door-step,  cowering 
among  her  bags,  counting  the  instants  till  a  step 
sounded  and  the  door-knob  turned,  letting  her  in 
from  the  searching  glare  of  the  outer  world.  .  .  . 
And  now  she  had  sat  for  an  hour  in  Violet's  draw 
ing-room,  in  the  very  house  where  her  honey-moon 
might  have  been  spent ;  and  no  one  had  asked  her. 


148      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

where  she  had  come  from,  or  why  she  was  alone, 
or  what  was  the  key  to  the  tragedy  written  on  her 
shrinking  face.  .  .  . 

That  was  the  way  of  the  world  they  lived  in. 
Nobody  questioned,  nobody  wondered  any  more 
— because  nobody  had  time  to  remember.  The  old 
risk  of  prying  curiosity,  of  malicious  gossip,  was 
virtually  over:  one  was  left  with  one's  drama, 
one's  disaster,  on  one's  hands,  because  there  was 
nobody  to  stop  and  notice  the  little  shrouded  ob 
ject  one  was  carrying.  As  Susy  watched  the  two 
people  before  her,  each  so  frankly  unaffected  by 
her  presence,  Violet  Melrose  so  engrossed  in  her 
feverish  pursuit  of  notoriety,  Fulmer  so  plunged 
in  the  golden  sea  of  his  success,  she  felt  like  a 
ghost  making  inaudible  and  imperceptible  appeals 
to  the  grosser  senses  of  the  living. 

"If  I  wanted  to  be  alone,"  she  thought,  "I'm 
alone  enough,  in  all  conscience."  There  was  a 
deathly  chill  in  such  security.  She  turned  to 
Fulmer. 

"And  Grace?" 

He  beamed  back  without  sign  of  embarrassment. 
"Oh,  she's  here,  naturally — we're  in  Paris,  kids 
and  all.  In  a  pension,  where  we  can  polish  up  the 
lingo.  But  I  hardly  ever  lay  eyes  on  her,  because 
she 's  as  deep  in  music  as  I  am  in  paint ;  it  was  as 
big  a  chance  for  her  as  for  me,  you  see,  and  she 's 
making  the  most  of  it,  fiddling  and  listening  to  the 
fiddlers.  Well,  it's  a  considerable  change  from 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      149 

New  Hampshire."  He  looked  at  her  dreamily,  as 
if  making  an  intense  effort  to  detach  himself 
from  his  dream,  and  situate  her  in  the  fading 
past.  "Remember  the  bungalow?  And  Nick — 
ah,  how's  Nick?"  he  brought  out  triumphantly. 

"Oh,  yes — darling  Nick?"  Mrs.  Melrose  chimed 
in;  and  Susy,  her  head  erect,  her  cheeks  aflame, 
declared  with  resonance:  "Most  awfully  well — 
splendidly ! ' ' 

"He's  not  here,  though?"  from  Fulmer. 

"No.    He's  off  travelling — cruising." 

Mrs.  Melrose 's  attention  was  faintly  roused. 
"With  anybody  interesting?" 

"No;  you  wouldn't  know  them.  People  we 
met.  ..."  She  did  not  have  to  continue,  for  her 
hostess's  gaze  had  again  strayed. 

"And  you've  come  for  your  clothes,  I  suppose, 
darling?  Don't  listen  to  people  who  say  that 
skirts  are  to  be  wider.  I've  discovered  a  new 
woman — a  Genius — and  she  absolutely  swathes 
you.  .  .  .  Her  name's  my  secret;  but  we'll  go  to 
her  together." 

Susy  rose  from  her  engulphing  armchair.  "Do 
you  mind  if  I  go  up  to  my  room?  I'm  rather  tired 
• — coming  straight  through." 

'  *  Of  course,  dear.  I  think  there  are  some  people 
coming  to  dinner  .  .  .  Mrs.  Match  will  tell  you. 
She  has  such  a  memory  .  .  .  Fulmer,  where  on 
earth  are  those  cartoons  of  the  music-room?" 

Their  voices  pursued  Susy  upstairs,  as,  in  Mrs. 


150      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Match's  perpendicular  wake,  she  mounted  to  the 
white-panelled  room  with  its  gay  linen  hangings 
and  the  low  bed  heaped  with  more  cushions. 

"If  we'd  come  here,"  she  thought,  "  every  thing 
might  have  been  different."  And  she  shuddered 
at  the  sumptuous  memories  of  the  Palazzo  Van- 
derlyn,  and  the  great  painted  bedroom  where  she 
had  met  her  doom. 

Mrs.  Match,  hoping  she  would  find  everything, 
and  mentioning  that  dinner  was  not  till  nine,  shut 
her  softly  in  among  her  terrors. 

"Find  everything?"  Susy  echoed  the  phrase. 
Oh,  yes,  she  would  always  find  everything:  every 
time  the  door  shut  on  her  now,  and  the  sound  of 
voices  ceased,  her  memories  would  be  there  wait 
ing  for  her,  every  one  of  them,  waiting  quietly, 
patiently,  obstinately,  like  poor  people  in  a  doc 
tor's  office,  the  people  who  are  always  last  to  be 
attended  to,  but  whom  nothing  will  discourage  or 
drive  away,  people  to  whom  time  is  nothing,  fa 
tigue  nothing,  hunger  nothing,  other  engagements 
nothing :  who  just  wait.  .  .  .  Thank  heaven,  after 
all,  that  she  had  not  found  the  house  empty,  if, 
whenever  she  returned  to  her  room,  she  was  to 
meet  her  memories  there  1 

It  was  just  a  week  since  Nick  had  left  her.  Dur 
ing  that  week,  crammed  with  people,  questions, 
packing,  explaining,  evading,  she  had  believed 
that  in  solitude  lay  her  salvation.  Now  she  under 
stood  that  there  was  nothing  she  was  so  unpre 
pared  for,  so  unfitted  for.  When,  in  all  her  life, 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      151 

had  she  ever  been  alone?  And  how  was  she  to 
bear  it  now,  with  all  these  ravening  memories 
besetting  her? 

Dinner  not  till  nine?  What  on  earth  was  she  to 
do  till  nine  o'clock?  She  knelt  before  her  boxeSj 
and  feverishly  began  to  unpack.  .  .  . 

Gradually,  imperceptibly,  the  subtle  influences 
of  her  old  life  were  stealing  into  her.  As  she 
pulled  out  her  tossed  and  crumpled  dresses  she 
remembered  Violet's  emphatic  warning:  "Don't 
believe  the  people  who  tell  you  that  skirts  are  go 
ing  to  be  wider."  Were  hers,  perhaps,  too  wide 
as  it  was?  She  looked  at  her  limp  raiment,  piling 
itself  up  on  bed  and  sofa,  and  understood  that, 
according  to  Violet's  standards,  and  that  of  all 
her  set,  those  dresses,  which  Nick  had  thought  so 
original  and  exquisite,  were  already  commonplace 
and  dowdy,  fit  only  to  be  passed  on  to  poor  rela 
tions  or  given  to  one's  maid.  And  Susy  would 
have  to  go  on  wearing  them  till  they  fell  to  bits — 
or  else.  .  .  .  Well,  or  else  begin  the  old  life  again 
in  some  new  form.  .  .  . 

She  laughed  aloud  at  the  turn  of  her  thoughts. 
Dresses?  How  little  they  had  mattered  a  few 
short  weeks  ago !  And  now,  perhaps,  they  would 
again  be  one  of  the  foremost  considerations  in  her 
life.  How  could  it  be  otherwise,  if  she  were  to 
return  again  to  her  old  dependence  on  Ellie  Van- 
derlyn,  Ursula  Gillow,  Violet  Melrose?  And  be 
yond  that,  only  the  Bockheimers  and  their  kind 
awaited  her. 


152      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

A  knock  on  the  door — what  a  relief!  It  was 
Mrs.  Match  again,  with  a  telegram.  To  whom  had 
Susy  given  her  new  address?  With  a  throbbing 
heart  she  tore  open  the  envelope  and  read: 

"Shall  be  in  Paris  Friday  for  twenty-fonr 
hours  where  can  I  see  you  write  Nouveau  Luxe. ' ' 

Ah,  yes — she  remembered  now :  she  had  written 
to  Strefford!  And  this  was  his  answer:  he  was 
coming.  She  dropped  into  a  chair,  and  tried  to 
think.  What  on  earth  had  she  said  in  her  letter? 
It  had  been  mainly,  of  course,  one  of  condolence ; 
but  now  she  remembered  having  added,  in  a  pre-, 
cipitate  postscript :  "I  can't  give  your  message  to 
Nick,  for  he's  gone  off  with  the  Hickses — I  don't 
know  where,  or  for  how  long.  It's  all  right,  of 
course :  it  was  in  our  bargain." 

She  had  not  meant  to  put  in  that  last  phrase ; 
but  as  she  sealed  her  letter  to  Strefford  her  eye 
had  fallen  on  Nick's  missive,  which  lay  beside  it. 
Nothing  in  her  husband's  brief  lines  had  embit 
tered  her  as  much  as  the  allusion  to  Strefford.  It 
seemed  to  imply  that  Nick's  own  plans  were  made, 
that  his  own  future  was  secure,  and  that  he  could 
therefore  freely  and  handsomely  take  thought  for 
hers,  and  give  her  a  pointer  in  the  right  direction. 
Sudden  rage  had  possessed  her  at  the  thought: 
where  she  had  at  first  read  jealousy  she  now  saw 
only  a  cold  providence,  and  in  a  blur  of  tears  she 
had  scrawled  her  postscript  to  Strefford.  She  re 
membered  that  she  had  not  even  asked  him  to 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      153 

keep  her  secret.  Well — after  all,  what  would  it  mat 
ter  if  people  should  already  know  that  Nick  had 
left  her?  Their  parting  could  not  long  remain 
a  mystery,  and  the  fact  that  it  was  known  might 
help  her  to  keep  up  a  pretence  of  indifference. 

"It  was  in  the  bargain — in  the  bargain,'*  rang 
through  her  brain  as  she  re-read  Stretford's  tele 
gram.  She  understood  that  he  had  snatched  the 
time  for  this  hasty  trip  solely  in  the  hope  of  see 
ing  her,  and  her  eyes  filled.  The  more  bitterly 
she  thought  of  Nick  the  more  this  proof  of  Stref- 
ford's  friendship  moved  her. 

The  clock,  to  her  relief,  reminded  her  that  it 
was  time  to  dress  for  dinner.  She  would  go  down 
presently,  chat  with  Violet  and  Fulmer,  and  with 
Violet's  other  guests,  who  would  probably  be  odd 
and  amusing,  and  too  much  out  of  her  world  to 
embarrass  her  by  awkward  questions.  She  would 
sit  at  a  softly-lit  table,  breathe  delicate  scents, 
eat  exquisite  food  (trust  Mrs.  Match!),  and  be 
gradually  drawn  again  under  the  spell  of  her  old 
associations.  Anything,  anything  but  to  be 
alone.  .  .  . 

She  dressed  with  even  more  than  her  habitual 
care,  reddened  her  lips  attentively,  brushed  the 
faintest  bloom  of  pink  over  her  drawn  cheeks,  and 
went  down — to  meet  Mrs.  Match  coming  up  with 
a  tray. 

* '  Oh,  Madam,  I  thought  you  were  too  tired.  .  .  . 
I  was  bringing  it  up  to  you  myself — just  a  little 
morsel  of  chicken.'' 


154      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Susy,  glancing  past  her,  saw,  through  the  open 
door,  that  the  lamps  were  not  lit  in  the  drawing- 
room. 

"Oh,  no,  I'm  not  tired,  thank  you.  I  thought 
Mrs.  Melrose  expected  friends  at  dinner?" 

"Friends  at  dinner — to-night  f"  Mrs.  Match 
heaved  a  despairing  sigh.  Sometimes,  the  sigh 
seemed  to  say,  her  mistress  put  too  great  a  strain 
upon  her.  "Why,  Mrs.  Melrose  and  Mr.  Fulmer 
were  engaged  to  dine  in  Paris.  They  left  an  hour 
ago.  Mrs.  Melrose  told  me  she'd  told  you,"  the 
house-keeper  wailed. 

Susy  kept  her  little  fixed  smile.  "I  must  have 
misunderstood.  In  that  case  .  .  .  well,  yes,  if  it's 
no  trouble,  I  believe  I  will  have  my  tray  up 
stairs." 

Slowly  she  turned,  and  followed  the  house 
keeper  up  into  the  dread  solitude  she  had  just  left. 


XIV 

HPHE  next  day  a  lot  of  people  turned  tip  unan- 
-*-  nounced  for  luncheon.  They  were  not  of  the 
far-fetched  and  the  exotic,  in  whom  Mrs.  Melrose 
now  specialized,  but  merely  commonplace  fash 
ionable  people  belonging  to  Susy's  own  group, 
people  familiar  with  the  amusing  romance  of  her 
penniless  marriage,  and  to  whom  she  had  to  ex 
plain  (though  none  of  them  really  listened  to  the 
explanation)  that  Nick  was  not  with  her  just  now, 
but  had  gone  off  cruising  .  .  .  cruising  in  the 
JEtgean  with  friends  .  .  .  getting  up  material  for 
his  book  (this  detail  had  occurred  to  her  in  the 
night). 

It  was  the  kind  of  encounter  she  had  most 
dreaded;  but  it  proved,  after  all,  easy  enough  to 
go  through  compared  with  those  endless  hours  of 
turning  to  and  fro,  the  night  before,  in  the  cage 
of  her  lonely  room.  Anything,  anything,  but  to 
be  alone.  .  .  . 

Gradually,  from  the  force  of  habit,  she  found 
herself  actually  in  tune  with  the  talk  of  the 
luncheon  table,  interested  in  the  references  to 
absent  friends,  the  light  allusions  to  last  year's 
loves  and  quarrels,  scandals  and  absurdities.  The 
women,  in  their  pale  summer  dresses,  were  so 
graceful,  indolent  and  sure  of  themselves,  the  men 

155 


156      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

so  easy  and  good-humoured!  Perhaps,  after  all, 
Susy  reflected,  it  was  the  world  she  was  meant 
for,  since  the  other,  the  brief  Paradise  of  her 
dreams,  had  already  shut  its  golden  doors  upon 
her.  And  then,  as  they  sat  on  the  terrace  after 
luncheon,  looking  across  at  the  yellow  tree-tops 
of  the  park,  one  of  the  women  said  something — 
made  just  an  allusion — that  Susy  would  have  let 
pass  unnoticed  in  the  old  days,  but  that  now  filled 
her  with  a  sudden  deep  disgust.  .  .  .  She  stood 
up  and  wandered  away,  away  from  them  all 
through  the  fading  garden. 

Two  days  later  Susy  and  Strefford  sat  on  the 
terrace  of  the  Tuileries  above  the  Seine.  She  had 
asked  him  to  meet  her  there,  with  the  desire  to 
avoid  the  crowded  halls  and  drawing-room  of  the 
Nouveau  Luxe  where,  even  at  that  supposedly 
"dead"  season,  people  one  knew  were  always 
drifting  to  and  fro;  and  they  sat  on  a  bench  in 
the  pale  sunlight,  the  discoloured  leaves  heaped 
at  their  feet,  and  no  one  to  share  their  solitude 
but  a  lame  working-man  and  a  haggard  woman 
who  were  lunching  together  mournfully  at  the 
other  end  of  the  majestic  vista. 

Strefford,  in  his  new  mourning,  looked  unnatur 
ally  prosperous  and  well-valeted;  but  his  ugly 
untidy  features  remained  as  undisciplined,  his 
smile  as  whimsical,  as  of  old.  He  had  been  on 
cool  though  friendly  terms  with  the  pompous 
uncle  and  the  poor  sickly  cousin  whose  joint  dis- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      157 

appearance  had  so  abruptly  transformed  his  fu 
ture  ;  and  it  was  his  way  to  understate  his  feelings 
rather  than  to  pretend  more  than  he  felt.  Never 
theless,  beneath  his  habitual  bantering  tone  Susy 
discerned  a  change.  The  disaster  had  shocked 
him  profoundly;  already,  in  his  brief  sojourn 
among  his  people  and  among  the  great  posses 
sions  so  tragically  acquired,  old  instincts  had 
awakened,  forgotten  associations  had  spoken  in 
him.  Susy  listened  to  him  wistfully,  silenced  by 
her  imaginative  perception  of  the  distance  that 
these  things  had  put  between  them. 

"It  was  horrible  .  .  .  seeing  them  both  there 
together,  laid  out  in  that  hideous  Pugin  chapel  at 
Altringham  .  .  .  the  poor  boy  especially  .  .  I 
suppose  that's  really  what's  cutting  me  up  now," 
he  murmured,  almost  apologetically. 

"Oh,  it's  more  than  that — more  than  you 
know,"  she  insisted;  but  he  jerked  back:  "Now, 
my  dear,  don't  be  edifying,  please,"  and  fumbled 
for  a  cigarette  in  the  pocket  which  was  already  be 
ginning  to  bulge  with  his  miscellaneous  proper 
ties. 

"And  now  about  you — for  that's  what  I  came 
for, ' '  he  continued,  turning  to  her  with  one  of  his 
sudden  movements.  "I  couldn't  make  head  or 
tail  of  your  letter." 

She  paused  a  moment  to  steady  her  voice. 
"Couldn't  you?  I  suppose  you'd  forgotten  my 
bargain  with  Nick.  He  hadn't — and  he's  asked 
me  to  fulfil  it." 


158      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Strefford  stared.  "What — that  nonsense  about 
your  setting  each  other  free  if  either  of  you  had 
the  chance  to  make  a  good  match!" 

She  signed  "Yes." 

"And  he's  actually  asked  you — ?" 

"Well:  practically.  He's  gone  off  with  the 
Hickses.  Before  going  he  wrote  me  that  we'd 
better  both  consider  ourselves  free.  And  Coral 
sent  me  a  post-card  to  say  that  she  would  take  the 
best  of  care  of  him." 

Strefford  mused,  his  eyes  upon  his  cigarette. 
'"But  what  the  deuce  led  up  to  all  this?  It  can't 
have  happened  like  that,  out  of  a  clear  sky. ' ' 

Susy  flushed,  hesitated,  looked  away.  She  had 
meant  to  tell  Strefford  the  whole  story;  it  had 
been  one  of  her  chief  reasons  for  wishing  to  see 
him  again,  and  half-unconsciously,  perhaps,  she 
had  hoped,  in  his  laxer  atmosphere,  to  recover 
something  of  her  shattered  self-esteem.  But  now 
she  suddenly  felt  the  impossibility  of  confessing 
to  anyone  the  depths  to  which  Nick's  wife  had 
stooped.  She  fancied  that  her  companion  guessed 
the  nature  of  her  hesitation. 

"Don't  tell  me  anything  you  don't  want  to,  you 
know,  my  dear." 

"No;  I  do  want  to;  only  it's  difficult.  You  see 
— we  had  so  very  little  money.  ..." 

"Yes?" 

"And  Nick — who  was  thinking  of  his  book,  and 
of  all  sorts  of  big  things,  fine  things — didn't  real 
ise  ...  left  it  all  to  me  ...  to  manage.  ..." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      159 

She  stumbled  over  the  word,  remembering  how 
Nick  had  always  winced  at  it.  But  Strefford  did 
not  seem  to  notice  her,  and  she  hurried  on,  unfold 
ing  in  short  awkward  sentences  the  avowal  of 
their  pecuniary  difficulties,  and  of  Nick's  inability 
to  understand  that,  to  keep  on  with  the  kind  of 
life  they  were  leading,  one  had  to  put  up  with 
things  .  .  .  accept  favours.  .  .  . 

"Borrow  money,  you  mean?" 

"Well — yes;  and  all  the  rest."  No — decidedly 
she  could  not  reveal  to  Strefford  the  episode  of 
Ellie's  letters.  "Nick  suddenly  felt,  I  suppose, 
that  he  couldn't  stand  it,"  she  continued;  "and 
instead  of  asking  me  to  try — to  try  to  live  differ 
ently,  go  off  somewhere  with  him  and  live  like 
work-people,  in  two  rooms,  without  a  servant,  as 
I  was  ready  to  do ;  well,  instead  he  wrote  me  that 
it  had  all  been  a  mistake  from  the  beginning,  that 
we  couldn't  keep  it  up,  and  had  better  recognize 
the  fact;  and  he  went  off  on  the  Hickses'  yacht. 
The  last  evening  that  you  were  in  Venice — the 
day  he  didn't  come  back  to  dinner — he  had  gone 
off  to  Genoa  to  meet  them.  I  suppose  he  intends 
to  marry  Coral." 

Strefford  received  this  in  silence.  "Well — it 
was  your  bargain,  wasn't  it?"  he  said  at  length. 

"Yes;  but—" 

"Exactly:  I  always  told  you  so.  You  weren't 
ready  to  have  him  go  yet — that's  all." 

She  flushed  to  the  forehead.  "Oh,  Streff — is  it 
really  all?" 


160      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"A  question  of  time?  If  you  doubt  it,  I'd  like 
to  see  you  try,  for  a  while,  in  those  two  rooms 
without  a  servant ;  and  then  let  me  hear  from  you. 
Why,  my  dear,  it's  only  a  question  of  time  in  a 
palace,  with  a  steam-yacht  lying  off  the  door-step, 
and  a  flock  of  motors  in  the  garage ;  look  around 
you  and  see.  And  did  you  ever  imagine  that  you 
and  Nick,  of  all  people,  were  going  to  escape  the 
common  doom,  and  survive  like  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Tithonus,  while  all  about  you  the  eternal  passions 
were  crumbling  to  pieces,  and  your  native  Di 
vorce-states  piling  up  their  revenues  ? ' ' 

She  sat  with  bent  head,  the  weight  of  the  long 
years  to  come  pressing  like  a  leaden  load  on  her 
shoulders. 

"But  I'm  so  young  .  .  .  life's  so  long.  What 
does  last,  then?" 

"Ah,  you're  too  young  to  believe  me,  if  I  were 
to  tell  you;  though  you're  intelligent  enough  to 
understand. ' ' 

"What  does,  then?" 

"Why,  the  hold  of  the  things  we  aft  think  we 
could  do  without.  Habits — they  outstand  the 
Pyramids.  Comforts,  luxuries,  the  atmosphere  of 
ease  .  .  .  above  all,  the  power  to  get  away  from 
dulness  and  monotony,  from  constraints  and  ugli 
nesses.  You  chose  that  power,  instinctively,  be 
fore  you  were  even  grown  up;  and  so  did  Nick. 
And  the  only  difference  between  you  is  that  he's 
had  the  sense  to  see  sooner  than  you  that  those 
are  the  things  that  last,  the  prime  necessities." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      161 

"I  don't  believe  it!" 

"Of  course  you  don't:  at  your  age  one  doesn't 
reason  one's  materialism.  And  besides  you're 
mortally  hurt  that  Nick  has  found  out  sooner  than 
you,  and  hasn't  disguised  his  discovery  under  any 
hypocritical  phrases. ' ' 

"But  surely  there  are  people — " 

"Yes — saints  and  geniuses  and  heroes:  all  the 
fanatics!  To  which  of  their  categories  do  you 
suppose  we  soft  people  belong?  And  the  heroes 
and  the  geniuses — haven't  they  their  enormous 
frailties  and  their  giant  appetites!  And  how 
should  we  escape  being  the  victims  of  our  little 
ones!" 

She  sat  for  a  while  without  speaking.  "But, 
Streff ,  how  can  you  say  such*  things,  when  I  know 
you  care :  care  for  me,  for  instance ! ' ' 

"Care!"  He  put  his  hand  on  hers.  "But,  my 
dear,  it's  just  the  fugitiveness  of  mortal  caring 
that  makes  it  so  exquisite!  It's  because  we  know 
we  can't  hold  fast  to  it,  or  to  each  other,  or  to 
anything.  ..." 

"Yes  .  .  .  yes  .  .  .  but  hush,  please!  Oh, 
don't  say  it!"  She  stood  up,  the  tears  in  her 
throat,  and  he  rose  also. 

"Come  along,  then;  where  do  we  lunch!"  he 
said  with  a  smile,  slipping  his  hand  through  her 
arm. 

"Oh,  I  don't  know.  Nowhere.  I  think  I'm  go 
ing  back  to  Versailles." 

"Because  I've  disgusted  you  so  deeply?    Just 


162      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

my  luck — when  I  came  over  to  ask  you  to  marry 
me!" 

She  laughed,  but  he  had  become  suddenly  grave. 
"Upon  my  soul,  I  did." 

1 1  Dear  Streff !    As  if— now— ' ' 

"Oh,  not  now — I  know.  I'm  aware  that  even 
with  your  accelerated  divorce  methods — " 

"It's  not  that.  I  told  you  it  was  no  use,  Streff 
1 — I  told  you  long  ago,  in  Venice." 

He  shrugged  ironically.  "It's  not  Streff  who's 
asking  you  now.  Streff  was  not  a  marrying  man : 
he  was  only  trifling  with  you.  The  present  offer 
comes  from  an  elderly  peer  of  independent  means. 
Think  it  over,  my  dear :  as  many  days  out  as  you 
like,  and  five  footmen  kept.  There 's  not  the  least 
hurry,  of  course ;  but  I  rather  think  Nick  himself 
would  advise  it." 

She  flushed  to  the  temples,  remembering  that 
Nick  had;  and  the  remembrance  made  Streff ord's 
sneering  philosophy  seem  less  unbearable.  Why 
should  she  not  lunch  with  him,  after  all?  In  the 
first  days  of  his  mourning  he  had  come  to  Paris 
expressly  to  see  her,  and  to  offer  her  one  of  the 
oldest  names  and  one  of  the  greatest  fortunes  in 
England.  She  thought  of  Ursula  Gillow,  Ellie 
Vanderlyn,  Violet  Melrose,  of  their  condescend 
ing  kindnesses,  their  last  year's  dresses,  their 
Christmas  cheques,  and  all  the  careless  bounties 
that  were  so  easy  to  bestow  and  so  hard  to  accept. 
"I  should  rather  enjoy  paying  them  back,"  some 
thing  in  her  maliciously  murmured. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      163 

She  did  not  mean  to  marry  Strefford — she  had 
not  even  got  as  far  as  contemplating  the  possibil 
ity  of  a  divorce — but  it  was  undeniable  that  this 
sudden  prospect  of  wealth  and  freedom  was  like 
fresh  air  in  her  lungs.  She  laughed  again,  but 
now  without  bitterness. 

"Very  good,  then;  we'll  lunch  together.  But 
it's  Streff  I  want  to  lunch  with  to-day." 

"Ah,  well,"  her  companion  agreed,  "I  rather 
think  that  for  a  tete-a-tete  he's  better  company." 

During  their  repast  in  a  little  restaurant  over 
the  Seine,  where  she  insisted  on  the  cheapest 
dishes  because  she  was  lunching  with  "Streff," 
he  became  again  his  old  whimsical  companionable 
self.  Once  or  twice  she  tried  to  turn  the  talk  to 
his  altered  future,  and  the  obligations  and  inter 
ests  that  lay  before  him;  but  he  shrugged  away 
from  the  subject,  questioning  her  instead  about 
the  motley  company  at  Violet  Melrose's,  and  fit 
ting  a  droll  or  malicious  anecdote  to  each  of  the 
people  she  named. 

It  was  not  till  they  had  finished  their  coffee, 
and  she  was  glancing  at  her  watch  with  a  vague 
notion  of  taking  the  next  train,  that  he  asked 
abruptly:  "But  what  are  you  going  to  do?  You 
can't  stay  forever  at  Violet's." 

"Oh,  no!"  she  cried  with  a  shiver. 

"Well,  then — you've  got  some  plan,  I  sup 
pose?" 

"Have  I?"  she  wondered,  jerked  back  into  grim 


164      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

reality  from  the  soothing  interlude  of  their  hour 
together. 

"You  can't  drift  indefinitely,  can  you?  Unless 
you  mean  to  go  back  to  the  old  sort  of  life  once 
for  all." 

She  reddened  and  her  eyes  filled.  "I  can't  do 
that,  Streff— I  know  I  can't!" 

"Then  what— ?" 

She  hesitated,  and  brought  out  with  lowered 
head:  "Nick  said  he  would  write  again — in  a  few 
days.  I  must  wait — " 

1 1  Oh,  naturally.  Don 't  do  anything  in  a  hurry. ' ' 
Streff ord  also  glanced  at  his  watch.  "Gargon, 
I' addition!  I'm  taking  the  train  back  to-night, 
and  I've  a  lot  of  things  left  to  do.  But  look  here, 
my  dear — when  you  come  to  a  decision  one  way 
or  the  other  let  me  know,  will  you?  Oh,  I  don't 
mean  in  the  matter  I've  most  at  heart;  we'll  con 
sider  that  closed  for  the  present.  But  at  least  I 
can  be  of  use  in  other  ways — hang  it,  you  know, 
I  can  even  lend  you  money.  There 's  a  new  sensa 
tion  for  our  jaded  palates!" 

"Oh,  Streff  .  .  .  Streff !"  she  could  only  falter; 
and  he  pressed  on  gaily:  "Try  it,  now  do  try  it 
— I  assure  you  there'll  be  no  interest  to  pay,  and 
no  conditions  attached.  And  promise  to  let  me 
know  when  you've  decided  anything." 

She  looked  into  his  humorously  puckered  eyes, 
answering  their  friendly  smile  with  hers. 

"I  promise!"  she  said. 


XV 


THAT  hour  with  Strefford  had  altered  her 
whole  perspective.  Instead  of  possible  de 
pendence,  an  enforced  return  to  the  old  life  of 
connivances  and  concessions,  she  saw  before  her 
— whenever  she  chose  to  take  them — freedom, 
power  and  dignity.  Dignity!  It  was  odd  what 
weight  that  word  had  come  to  have  for  her.  She 
had  dimly  felt  its  significance,  felt  the  need  of  its 
presence  in  her  inmost  soul,  even  in  the  young 
thoughtless  days  when  she  had  seemed  to  sacrifice 
so  little  to  the  austere  divinities.  And  since  she 
had  been  Nick  Lansing's  wife  she  had  consciously 
acknowledged  it,  had  suffered  and  agonized  when 
she  fell  beneath  its  standard.  Yes:  to  marry 
Strefford  would  give  her  that  sense  of  self-respect 
which,  in  such  a  world  as  theirs,  only  wealth  and 
position  could  ensure.  If  she  had  not  the  mental 
or  moral  training  to  attain  independence  in  any 
other  way,  was  she  to  blame  for  seeking  it  on 
such  terms? 

Of  course  there  was  always  the  chance  that 
Nick  would  come  back,  would  find  life  without  her 
as  intolerable  as  she  was  finding  it  without  him. 
If  that  happened — ah,  if  that  happened!  Then 
phe  would  cease  to  strain  her  eyes  into  the  future, 

165 


166      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

would  seize  upon  the  present  moment  and  plunge 
into  it  to  the  very  bottom  of  oblivion.  Nothing 
on  earth  would  matter  then — money  or  freedom 
or  pride,  or  her  precious  moral  dignity,  if  only 
she  were  in  Nick's  arms  again! 

But  there  was  Nick's  icy  letter,  there  was  Coral 
Hicks 's  insolent  post-card,  to  show  how  little 
chance  there  was  of  such  a  solution.  Susy  under 
stood  that,  even  before  the  discovery  of  her  trans 
action  with  Ellie  Vanderlyn,  Nick  had  secretly 
wearied,  if  not  of  his  wife,  at  least  of  the  life  that 
their  marriage  compelled  him  to  lead.  His  pas 
sion  was  not  strong  enough — had  never  been 
strong  enough — to  outweigh  his  prejudices,  scru 
ples,  principles,  or  whatever  one  chose  to  call 
them.  Susy's  dignity  might  go  up  like  tinder  in 
the  blaze  of  her  love ;  but  his  was  made  of  a  less 
combustible  substance.  She  had  felt,  in  their  last 
talk  together,  that  she  had  forever  destroyed  the 
inner  harmony  between  them. 

Well — there  it  was,  and  the  fault  was  doubtless 
neither  hers  nor  his,  but  that  of  the  world  they 
had  grown  up  in,  of  their  own  moral  contempt 
for  it  and  physical  dependence  on  it,  of  his  half- 
talents  and  her  half -principles,  of  the  something 
in  them  both  that  was  not  stout  enough  to  resist 
nor  yet  pliant  enough  to  yield.  She  stared  at  the 
fact  on  the  journey  back  to  Versailles,  and  all 
that  sleepless  night  in  her  room;  and  the  next 
morning,  when  the  housemaid  came  in  with  her 
breakfast  tray,  she  felt  the  factitious  energy  that 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      167 

comes  from  having  decided,  however  half-heart 
edly,  on  a  definite  course. 

She  had  said  to  herself:  "If  there's  no  letter 
from  Nick  this  time  next  week  I'll  write  to 
Streff — "  and  the  week  had  passed,  and  there  was 
no  letter. 

It  was  now  three  weeks  since  he  had  left  her, 
and  she  had  had  no  word  but  his  note  from  Genoa. 
She  had  concluded  that,  foreseeing  the  probability 
of  her  leaving  Venice,  he  would  write  to  her  in 
care  of  their  Paris  bank.  But  though  she  had  im 
mediately  notified  the  bank  of  her  change  of  ad 
dress  no  communication  from  Nick  had  reached 
her;  and  she  smiled  with  a  touch  of  bitterness  at 
the  difficulty  he  was  doubtless  finding  in  the  com 
position  of  the  promised  letter.  Her  own  scrap- 
basket,  for  the  first  days,  had  been  heaped  with 
the  fragments  of  the  letters  she  had  begun;  and 
she  told  herself  that,  since  they  both  found  it  so 
hard  to  write,  it  was  probably  because  they  had 
nothing  left  to  say  to  each  other. 

Meanwhile  the  days  at  Mrs.  Melrose's  drifted 
by  as  they  had  been  wont  to  drift  when,  under 
the  roofs  of  the  rich,  Susy  Branch  had  marked 
time  between  one  episode  and  the  next  of  her  pre 
carious  existence.  Her  experience  of  such  so 
journs  was  varied  enough  to  make  her  acutely 
conscious  of  their  effect  on  her  temporary  hosts ; 
and  in  the  present  case  she  knew  that  Violet  was 
hardly  aware  of  her  presence.  But  if  no  more 
than  tolerated  she  was  at  least  not  felt  to  be  an 


168      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

inconvenience;  when  your  hostess  forgot  about 
you  it  proved  that  at  least  you  were  not  in  her 
way. 

Violet,  as  usual,  was  perpetually  on  the  wing, 
for  her  profound  indolence  expressed  itself  in  a 
disordered  activity.  Nat  Fulmer  had  returned  to 
Paris ;  but  Susy  guessed  that  his  benefactress  was 
still  constantly  in  his  company,  and  that  when 
Mrs.  Melrose  was  whirled  away  in  her  noiseless 
motor  it  was  generally  toward  the  scene  of  some 
new  encounter  between  Fulmer  and  the  arts.  On 
these  occasions  she  sometimes  offered  to  carry 
Susy  to  Paris,  and  they  devoted  several  long 
and  hectic  mornings  to  the  dress-makers,  where 
Susy  felt  herself  gradually  succumbing  to  the  fa 
miliar  spell  of  heaped-up  finery.  It  seemed  im 
possible,  as  furs  and  laces  and  brocades  were 
tossed  aside,  brought  back,  and  at  last  carelessly 
selected  from,  that  anything  but  the  whim  of  the 
moment  need  count  in  deciding  whether  one 
should  take  all  or  none,  or  that  any  woman  could 
be  worth  looking  at  who  did  not  possess  the 
means  to  make  her  choice  regardless  of  cost. 

Once  alone,  and  in  the  street  again,  the  evil 
fumes  would  evaporate,  and  daylight  re-enter 
Susy's  soul;  yet  she  felt  that  the  old  poison  was 
slowly  insinuating  itself  into  her  system.  To  dis 
pel  it  she  decided  one  day  to  look  up  Grace  Ful 
mer.  She  was  curious  to  know  how  the  happy- 
go-lucky  companion  of  Fulmer 's  evil  days  was 
bearing  the  weight  of  his  prosperity,  and  she 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      169 

vaguely  felt  that  it  would  be  refreshing  to  see 
some  one  who  had  never  been  afraid  of  poverty. 

The  airless  pension  sitting-room,  where  she 
waited  while  a  reluctant  maid-servant  screamed 
about  the  house  for  Mrs.  Fulmer,  did  not  have 
the  hoped-for  effect.  It  was  one  thing  for  Grace 
to  put  up  with  such  quarters  when  she  shared 
them  with  Fulmer;  but  to  live  there  while  he 
basked  in  the  lingering  radiance  of  Versailles,  or 
rolled  from  chateau  to  picture  gallery  in  Mrs.  Mel- 
rose 's  motor,  showed  a  courage  that  Susy  felt 
unable  to  emulate. 

'  *  My  dear !  I  knew  you  'd  look  me  up, ' '  Grace  ys 
joyous  voice  rang  down  the  stairway;  and  in  an 
other  moment  she  was  clasping  Susy  to  her 
tumbled  person. 

"Nat  couldn't  remember  if  he'd  given  you  our 
address,  though  he  promised  me  he  would,  the  last 
time  he  was  here."  She  held  Susy  at  arms' 
length,  beaming  upon  her  with  blinking  short 
sighted  eyes :  the  same  old  dishevelled  Grace,  so 
careless  of  her  neglected  beauty  and  her  squan 
dered  youth,  so  amused  and  absent-minded  and 
improvident,  that  the  boisterous  air  of  the  New 
Hampshire  bungalow  seemed  to  enter  with  her 
into  the  little  air-tight  salon. 

While  she  poured  out  the  tale  of  Nat's  sudden 
celebrity,  and  its  unexpected  consequences,  Susy 
marvelled  and  dreamed.  Was  the  secret  of  his 
triumph  perhaps  due  to  those  long  hard  unre 
warded  years,  the  steadfast  scorn  of  popularity, 


170      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  indifference  to  every  kind  of  material  ease  in 
which  his  wife  had  so  gaily  abetted  him?  Had  it 
been  bought  at  the  cost  of  her  own  freshness  and 
her  own  talent,  of  the  children's  "advantages,"  of 
everything  except  the  closeness  of  the  tie  between 
husband  and  wife  T  Well — it  was  worth  the  price, 
no  doubt ;  but  what  if,  now  that  honours  and  pros 
perity  had  come,  the  tie  were  snapped,  and  Grace 
were  left  alone  among  the  ruins? 

There  was  nothing  in  her  tone  or  words  to  sug 
gest  such  a  possibility.  Susy  noticed  that  her  ill- 
assorted  raiment  was  costlier  in  quality  and  more 
professional  in  cut  than  the  home-made  garments 
which  had  draped  her  growing  bulk  at  the  bunga 
low  :  it  was  clear  that  she  was  trying  to  dress  up 
to  Nat's  new  situation.  But,  above  all,  she  was 
rejoicing  in  it,  filling  her  hungry  lungs  with  the 
strong  air  of  his  success.  It  had  evidently  not 
occurred  to  her  as  yet  that  those  who  consent  to 
share  the  bread  of  adversity  may  want  the  whole 
cake  of  prosperity  for  themselves. 

"My  dear,  it's  too  wonderful!  He's  told  me  to 
take  as  many  concert  and  opera  tickets  as  I  like; 
he  lets  me  take  all  the  children  with  me.  The  big 
concerts  don't  begin  till  later;  but  of  course  the 
Opera  is  always  going.  And  there  are  little  things 
— there's  music  in  Paris  at  all  seasons.  And 
later  it's  just  possible  we  may  get  to  Munich  for 
a  week — oh,  Susy!"  Her  hands  clasped,  her  eyes 
brimming,  she  drank  the  new  wine  of  life  almost 
sacramentally. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      171 

"Do  you  remember,  Susy,  when  you  and  Nick 
fcame  to  stay  at  the  bungalow?  Nat  said  you'd 
be  horrified  by  our  primitiveness — but  I  knew 
better!  And  I  was  right,  wasn't  I?  Seeing  us 
so  happy  made  you  and  Nick  decide  to  follow  our 
example,  didn't  it?"  She  glowed  with  the  re 
membrance.  "And  now,  what  are  your  plans? 
Is  Nick's  book  nearly  done?  I  suppose  you'll 
have  to  live  very  economically  till  he  finds  a  pub 
lisher.  And  the  baby,  darling — when  is  that  to 
be?  If  you're  coming  home  soon  I  could  let  you 
have  a  lot  of  the  children's  little  old  things." 

"You're  always  so  dear,  Grace.  But  we 
haven't  any  special  plans  as  yet — not  even  for  a 
baby.  And  I  wish  you'd  tell  me  all  of  yours  in 
stead." 

Mrs.  Fulmer  asked  nothing  better:  Susy  per 
ceived  that,  so  far,  the  greater  part  of  her  Eu 
ropean  experience  had  consisted  in  talking  about 
what  it  was  to  be.  "Well,  you  see,  Nat  is  so  taken 
up  all  day  with  sight-seeing  and  galleries  and 
meeting  important  people  that  he  hasn't  had  time 
to  go  about  with  us;  and  as  so  few  theatres  are 
open,  and  there's  so  little  music,  I've  taken  the 
opportunity  to  catch  up  with  my  mending.  Junie 
helps  me  with  it  now — she's  our  eldest,  you  re 
member?  She's  grown  into  a  big  girl  since  you 
saw  her.  And  later,  perhaps,  we're  to  travel. 
And  the  most  wonderful  thing  of  all — next  to 
Nat's  recognition,  I  mean — is  not  having  to  con 
trive  and  skimp,  and  give  up  something  every 


172      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

single  minute.  Just  think — Nat  has  even  made 
special  arrangements  here  in  the  pension,  so  that 
the  children  all  have  second  helpings  to  every 
thing.  And  when  I  go  up  to  bed  I  can  think  of 
my  music,  instead  of  lying  awake  calculating  and 
wondering  how  I  can  make  things  come  out  at  the 
end  of  the  month.  Oh,  Susy,  that's  simply 
"heaven!" 

Susy's  heart  contracted.  She  had  come  to  her 
friend  to  be  taught  again  the  lesson  of  indifference 
to  material  things,  and  instead  she  was  hearing 
from  Grace  Fulmer's  lips  the  long-repressed 
avowal  of  their  tyranny.  After  all,  that  battle 
with  poverty  on  the  New  Hampshire  hillside  had 
not  been  the  easy  smiling  business  that  Grace 
and  Nat  had  made  it  appear.  And  yet  .  .  .  and 
yet.  .  .  . 

Susy  stood  up  abruptly,  and  straightened  the 
expensive  hat  which  hung  irresponsibly  over 
Grace's  left  ear. 

11  What's  wrong  with  it?  Junie  helped  me 
choose  it,  and  she  generally  knows,"  Mrs.  Fulmer 
wailed  with  helpless  hands. 

"It's  the  way  you  wear  it,  dearest — and  the  bow 
is  rather  top-heavy.  Let  me  have  it  a  minute, 
please."  Susy  lifted  the  hat  from  her  friend's 
head  and  began  to  manipulate  its  trimming. 
"This  is  the  way  Maria  Guy  or  Suzanne  would 
do  it.  ...  And  now  go  on  about  Nat.  ..." 

She  listened  musingly  while  Grace  poured  forth 
the  tale  of  her  husband's  triumph,  of  the  notices 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      173 

in  the  papers,  the  demand  for  his  work,  the  fine 
ladies'  battles  over  their  priority  in  discovering 
him,  and  the  multiplied  orders  that  had  resulted 
from  their  rivalry. 

"Of  course  they're  simply  furious  with  each 
other — Mrs.  Melrose  and  Mrs.  Gillow  especially 
— because  each  one  pretends  to  have  been  the  first 
to  notice  his  ' Spring  Snow-Storm,'  and  in  reality 
it  wasn't  either  of  them,  but  only  poor  Bill  Has- 
lett,  an  art-critic  we've  known  for  years,  who 
chanced  on  the  picture,  and  rushed  off  to  tell  a 
dealer  who  was  looking  for  a  new  painter  to 
push."  Grace  suddenly  raised  her  soft  myopic 
eyes  to  Susy's  face.  "But,  do  you  know,  the 
funny  thing  is  that  I  believe  Nat  is  beginning  to 
forget  this,  and  to  believe  that  it  was  Mrs.  Mel- 
rose  who  stopped  short  in  front  of  his  picture  on 
the  opening  day,  and  screamed  out:  'This  is 
genius ! '  It  seems  funny  he  should  care  so  much, 
when  I've  always  known  he  had  genius — and  lie 
has  known  it  too.  But  they're  all  so  kind  to  him; 
and  Mrs.  Melrose  especially.  And  I  suppose  it 
makes  a  thing  sound  new  to  hear  it  said  in  a  new 
voice." 

Susy  looked  at  her  meditatively.  "And  how 
should  you  feel  if  Nat  liked  too  much  to  hear  Mrs. 
Melrose  say  it?  Too  much,  I  mean,  to  care  any 
longer  what  you  felt  or  thought?" 

Her  friend's  worn  face  flushed  quickly,  and  then 
paled:  Susy  almost  repented  the  question.  But 
Mrs.  Fulmer  met  it  with  a  tranquil  dignity.  *  *  You 


174      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

haven 't  been  married  long  enough,  dear,  to  under 
stand  .  .  .  how  people  like  Nat  and  me  feel  about 
such  things  ...  or  how  trifling  they  seem,  in  the 
balance  .  .  .  the  balance  of  one's  memories." 

Susy  stood  up  again,  and  flung  her  arms  about 
her  friend.  "Oh,  Grace,"  she  laughed  with  wet 
eyes,  "how  can  you  be  as  wise  as  that,  and  yet 
not  have  sense  enough  to  buy  a  decent  hat?"  She 
gave  Mrs.  Fulmer  a  quick  embrace  and  hurried 
away.  She  had  learned  her  lesson  after  all;  but 
it  was  not  exactly  the  one  she  had  come  to  seek. 

The  week  she  had  allowed  herself  had  passed, 
and  still  there  was  no  word  from  Nick.  She  al 
lowed  herself  yet  another  day,  and  that  too  went 
by  without  a  letter.  She  then  decided  on  a  step 
from  which  her  pride  had  hitherto  recoiled;  she 
would  call  at  the  bank  and  ask  for  Nick's  ad 
dress.  She  called,  embarrassed  and  hesitating; 
and  was  told,  after  enquiries  in  the  post-office  de 
partment,  that  Mr.  Nicholas  Lansing  had  given 
no  address  since  that  of  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn, 
three  months  previously.  She  went  back  to  Ver 
sailles  that  afternoon  with  the  definite  intention 
of  writing  to  StrefTord  unless  the  next  morning's 
post  brought  a  letter. 

The  next  morning  brought  nothing  from  Nick, 
but  a  scribbled  message  from  Mrs.  Melrose: 
would  Susy,  as  soon  as  possible,  come  into  her 
room  for  a  word?  Susy  jumped  up,  hurried 
through  her  bath,  and  knocked  at  her  hostess's 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      175 

door.  In  the  immense  low  bed  that  faced  the  rich 
umbrage  of  the  park  Mrs.  Melrose  lay  smoking 
cigarettes  and  glancing  over  her  letters.  She 
looked  up  with  her  vague  smile,  and  said  dream 
ily:  "  Susy  darling,  have  you  any  particular  plans 
— for  the  next  few  months,  I  mean  ? ' ' 

Susy  coloured:  she  knew  the  intonation  of  old, 
and  fancied  she  understood  what  it  implied. 

"Plans,  dearest?  Any  number  ...  I'm  tear 
ing  myself  away  the  day  after  to-morrow  ...  to 
the  Gillows'  moor,  very  probably, "  she  hastened 
to  announce. 

Instead  of  the  relief  she  had  expected  to  read 
on  Mrs.  Melrose 's  dramatic  countenance  she  dis 
covered  there  the  blankest  disappointment. 

"Oh,  really?  That's  too  bad.  Is  it  absolutely 
settled—?" 

"As  far  as  I'm  concerned,"  said  Susy  crisply. 

The  other  sighed.  "I'm  too  sorry.  You  see, 
dear,  I'd  meant  to  ask  you  to  stay  on  here  quietly 
and  look  after  the  Fulmer  children.  Fulmer  and 
I  are  going  to  Spain  next  week — I  want  to  be  with 
him  when  he  makes  his  studies,  receives  his  first 
impressions;  such  a  marvellous  experience,  to  be 
there  when  he  and  Velasquez  meet ! ' '  She  broke 
off,  lost  in  prospective  ecstasy.  "And,  you  see, 
as  Grace  Fulmer  insists  on  coming  with  us — " 

"Ah,  I  see." 

"Well,  there  are  the  five  children — such  a  prob 
lem,"  sighed  the  benefactress.  "If  you  were  at 
a  loose  end,  you  know,  dear,  while  Nick's  away 


176      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

with  his  friends,  I  could  really  make  it  worth  your 
while.  ..." 

"So  awfully  good  of  you,  Violet;  only  I'm  not, 
as  it  happens." 

Oh  the  relief  of  being  able  to  say  that,  gaily, 
firmly  and  even  truthfully!  Take  charge  of  the 
Fulmer  children,  indeed!  Susy  remembered  how 
Nick  and  she  had  fled  from  them  that  autumn  af 
ternoon  in  New  Hampshire.  The  offer  gave  her  a 
salutary  glimpse  of  the  way  in  which,  as  the  years 
passed,  and  she  lost  her  freshness  and  novelty,  she 
would  more  and  more  be  used  as  a  convenience, 
a  stop-gap,  writer  of  notes,  runner  of  errands, 
nursery  governess  or  companion.  She  called  to 
mind  several  elderly  women  of  her  acquaintance, 
pensioners  of  her  own  group,  who  still  wore  its 
livery,  struck  its  attitudes  and  chattered  its  jar 
gon,  but  had  long  since  been  ruthlessly  relegated 
to  these  slave-ant  offices.  Never  in  the  world 
would  she  join  their  numbers. 

Mrs.  Melrose  's  face  fell,  and  she  looked  at  Susy 
with  the  plaintive  bewilderment  of  the  wielder  of 
millions  to  whom  everything  that  cannot  be  bought 
is  imperceptible. 

"But  I  can't  see  why  you  can't  change  your 
plans,"  she  murmured  with  a  soft  persistency. 

"Ah,  well,  you  know" — Susy  paused  on  a  slow 
inward  smile — "they're  not  mine  only,  as  it  hap 
pens." 

Mrs.  Melrose 's  brow  clouded.    The  unforeseen 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      177 

complication  of  Mrs.  Fulmer's  presence  on  the 
journey  had  evidently  tried  her  nerves,  and  this 
new  obstacle  to  her  arrangements  shook  her  faith 
in  the  divine  order  of  things. 

"Your  plans  are  not  yours  only?  But  surely 
you  won't  let  Ursula  Gillow  dictate  to  you!  .  .  . 
There's  my  jade  pendant;  the  one  you  said  you 
liked  the  other  day.  .  .  .  The  Fulmers  won't  go 
with  me,  you  understand,  unless  they're  satisfied 
about  the  children;  the  whole  plan  will  fall 
through.  Susy  darling,  you  were  always  too  un 
selfish;  I  hate  to  see  you  sacrificed  to  Ursula." 

Susy's  smile  lingered.  Time  was  when  she 
might  have  been  glad  to  add  the  jade  pendant  to 
the  collection  already  enriched  by  Ellie  Vander- 
lyn's  sapphires ;  more  recently,  she  would  have  re 
sented  the  offer  as  an  insult  to  her  newly-found 
principles.  But  already  the  mere  fact  that  she 
might  henceforth,  if  she  chose,  be  utterly  out  of 
reach  of  such  bribes,  enabled  her  to  look  down  on 
them  with  tolerance.  Oh,  the  blessed  moral  free 
dom  that  wealth  conferred!  She  recalled  Mrs. 
Fulmer's  uncontrollable  cry:  "The  most  wonder 
ful  thing  of  all  is  not  having  to  contrive  and 
skimp,  and  give  up  something  every  single  min 
ute!"  Yes;  it  was  only  on  such  terms  that  one 
could  call  one's  soul  one's  own.  The  sense  of  it 
gave  Susy  the  grace  to  answer  amicably:  "If  I 
could  possibly  help  you  out,  Violet,  I  shouldn't 
want  a  present  to  persuade  me.  And,  as  you  say, 


178      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

there 's  no  reason  why  I  should  sacrifice  myself  to 
Ursula — or  to  anybody  else.    Only,  as  it  happens  " 
— she  paused  and  took  the  plunge — "I'm  going  to 
England  because  IVe  promised  to  see  a  friend." 
That  night  she  wrote  to  Strefford. 


XVI 

CJ  TRETCHED  out  under  an  awning  on  the  deck 
JO  of  the  Ibis  Nick  Lansing  looked  up  for  a  mo 
ment  at  the  vanishing  cliffs  of  Malta  and  then 
plunged  again  into  his  book. 

He  had  had  nearly  three  weeks  of  drug-taking 
on  the  Ibis.  The  drugs  he  had  absorbed  were  of 
two  kinds :  visions  of  fleeing  landscapes,  looming 
up  from  the  blue  sea  to  vanish  into  it  again,  and 
visions  of  study  absorbed  from  the  volumes  piled 
up  day  and  night  at  his  elbow.  For  the  first  time 
in  months  he  was  in  reach  of  a  real  library,  just 
the  kind  of  scholarly  yet  miscellaneous  library 
that  his  restless  and  impatient  spirit  craved.  He 
was  aware  that  the  books  he  read,  like  the  fugitive 
scenes  on  which  he  gazed,  were  merely  a  form  of 
anaesthetic:  he  swallowed  them  with  the  careless 
greed  of  the  sufferer  who  seeks  only  to  still  pain 
and  deaden  memory.  But  they  were  beginning  to 
produce  in  him  a  moral  languor  that  was  not  dis 
agreeable,  that,  indeed,  compared  with  the  fierce 
pain  of  the  first  days,  was  almost  pleasurable.  It 
was  exactly  the  kind  of  drug  that  he  needed. 

There  is  probably  no  point  on  which  the  average 
man  has  more  definite  views  than  on  the  useless- 
ness  of  writing  a  letter  that  is  hard  to  write.  In 

179 


180      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  line  he  had  sent  to  Susy  from  Genoa  Nick  had 
told  her  that  she  would  hear  from  him  again  in  a 
few  days ;  but  when  the  few  days  had  passed,  and 
he  began  to  consider  setting  himself  to  the  task, 
he  found  fifty  reasons  for  postponing  it. 

Had  there  been  any  practical  questions  to  write 
about  it  would  have  been  different;  he  could  not 
have  borne  for  twenty-four  hours  the  idea  that  she 
was  in  uncertainty  as  to  money.  But  that  had  all 
been  settled  long  ago.  From  the  first  she  had  had 
the  administering  of  their  modest  fortune.  On 
their  marriage  Nick's  own  meagre  income,  paid 
in,  none  too  regularly,  by  the  agent  who  had  man 
aged  for  years  the  dwindling  family  properties, 
had  been  transferred  to  her :  it  was  the  only  wed 
ding  present  he  could  make.  And  the  wedding 
cheques  had  of  course  all  been  deposited  in  her 
name.  There  were  therefore  no  "business"  rea 
sons  for  communicating  with  her;  and  when  it 
came  to  reasons  of  another  order  the  mere 
thought  of  them  benumbed  him. 

For  the  first  few  days  he  reproached  himself  for 
his  inertia ;  then  he  began  to  seek  reasons  for  jus 
tifying  it.  After  all,  for  both  their  sakes  a  wait 
ing  policy  might  be  the  wisest  he  could  pursue. 
He  had  left  Susy  because  he  could  not  tolerate  the 
conditions  on  which  he  had  discovered  their  life 
together  to  be  based ;  and  he  had  told  her  so.  What 
more  was  there  to  say? 

Nothing  was  changed  in  their  respective  situa 
tions  ;  if  they  came  together  it  could  be  only  to  re- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      181 

sume  the  same  life ;  and  that,  as  the  days  went  by, 
seemed  to  him  more  and  more  impossible.  He  had 
not  yet  reached  the  point  of  facing  a  definite  sepa 
ration;  but  whenever  his  thoughts  travelled  back 
over  their  past  life  he  recoiled  from  any  attempt 
to  return  to  it.  As  long  as  this  state  of  mind  con 
tinued  there  seemed  nothing  to  add  to  the  letter 
he  had  already  written,  except  indeed  the  state 
ment  that  he  was  cruising  with  the  Hickses.  And 
he  saw  no  pressing  reason  for  communicating  that. 

To  the  Hickses  he  had  given  no  hint  of  his  situa 
tion.  When  Coral  Hicks,  a  fortnight  earlier,  had 
picked  him  up  in  the  broiling  streets  of  Genoa,  and 
carried  him  off  to  the  Ibis,  he  had  thought  only  of 
a  cool  dinner  and  perhaps  a  moonlight  sail.  Then, 
in  reply  to  their  friendly  urging,  he  had  confessed 
that  he  had  not  been  well — had  indeed  gone  off 
hurriedly  for  a  few  days'  change  of  air — and  that 
left  him  without  defence  against  the  immediate 
proposal  that  he  should  take  his  change  of  air  on 
the  Ibis.  They  were  just  off  to  Corsica  and  Sar 
dinia,  and  from  there  to  Sicily:  he  could  rejoin  the 
railway  at  Naples,  and  be  back  at  Venice  in  ten 
days. 

Ten  days  of  respite — the  temptation  was  irre 
sistible.  And  he  really  liked  the  kind  uncompli 
cated  Hickses.  A  wholesome  honesty  and  sim 
plicity  breathed  through  all  their  opulence,  as  if 
the  rich  trappings  of  their  present  life  still  ex 
haled  the  fragrance  of  their  native  prairies.  The 
mere  fact  of  being  with  such  people  was  like  a 


182      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

purifying  bath.  When  the  yacht  touched  at 
Naples  he  agreed — since  they  were  so  awfully  kind 
— to  go  on  to  Sicily.  And  when  the  chief  steward, 
going  ashore  at  Naples  for  the  last  time  before 
they  got  up  steam,  said :  "  Any  letters  for  the  post, 
sir?"  he  answered,  as  he  had  answered  at  each 
previous  halt :  '  *  No,  thank  you :  none. ' ' 

Now  they  were  heading  for  Rhodes  and  Crete — 
Crete,  where  he  had  never  been,  where  he  had  so 
often  longed  to  go.  In  spite  of  the  lateness  of  the 
season  the  weather  was  still  miraculously  fine :  the 
short  waves  danced  ahead  under  a  sky  without  a 
cloud,  and  the  strong  bows  of  the  Ibis  hardly 
swayed  as  she  flew  forward  over  the  flying  crests. 

Only  his  hosts  and  their  daughter  were  on  the 
yacht — of  course  with  Eldorada  Tooker  and  Mr. 
Beck  in  attendance.  An  eminent  archaeologist, 
who  was  to  have  joined  them  at  Naples,  had  tele 
graphed  an  excuse  at  the  last  moment ;  and  Nick 
noticed  that,  while  Mrs.  Hicks  was  perpetually 
apologizing  for  the  great  man's  absence,  Coral 
merely  smiled  and  said  nothing. 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hicks  were 
never  as  pleasant  as  when  one  had  them  to  one's 
self.  In  company,  Mr.  Hicks  ran  the  risk  of  ap 
pearing  over-hospitable,  and  Mrs.  Hicks  confused 
dates  and  names  in  the  desire  to  embrace  all  cul 
ture  in  her  conversation.  But  alone  with  Nickt 
their  old  travelling-companion,  they  shone  out  in 
their  native  simplicity,  and  Mr.  Hicks  talked 
soundly  of  investments,  and  Mrs.  Hicks  recalled 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      183 

her  early  married  days  in  Apex  City,  when,  on  be 
ing  brought  home  to  her  new  house  in  Aeschylus 
Avenue,  her  first  thought  had  been:  "How  on 
earth  shall  I  get  all  those  windows  washed?" 

The  loss  of  Mr.  Buttles  had  been  as  serious  to 
them  as  Nick  had  supposed :  Mr.  Beck  could  never 
hope  to  replace  him.  Apart  from  his  mysterious 
gift  of  languages,  and  his  almost  superhuman  fac 
ulty  for  knowing  how  to  address  letters  to  eminent 
people,  and  in  what  terms  to  conclude  them,  he  had 
a  smattering  of  archaeology  and  general  culture 
on  which  Mrs.  Hicks  had  learned  to  depend — her 
own  memory  being,  alas,  so  inadequate  to  the 
range  of  her  interests. 

Her  daughter  might  perhaps  have  helped  her; 
but  it  was  not  Miss  Hicks 's  way  to  mother  her 
parents.  She  was  exceedingly  kind  to  them,  but 
left  them,  as  it  were,  to  bring  themselves  up  as 
best  they  could,  while  she  pursued  her  own  course 
of  self-development.  A  sombre  zeal  for  knowl 
edge  filled  the  mind  of  this  strange  girl:  she  ap 
peared  interested  only  in  fresh  opportunities  of 
adding  to  her  store  of  facts.  They  were  illuminated 
by  little  imagination  and  less  poetry;  but,  care 
fully  catalogued  and  neatly  sorted  in  her  large 
cool  brain,  they  were  always  as  accessible  as  the 
volumes  in  an  up-to-date  public  library. 

To  Nick  there  was  something  reposeful  in  this 
lucid  intellectual  curiosity.  He  wanted  above  all 
things  to  get  away  from  sentiment,  from  seduc 
tion,  from  the  moods  and  impulses  and  flashing 


184      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

contradictions  that  were  Susy.  Susy  was  not  a 
great  reader :  her  store  of  facts  was  small,  and  she 
had  grown  up  among  people  who  dreaded  ideas  as 
much  as  if  they  had  been  a  contagious  disease. 
But,  in  the  early  days  especially,  when  Nick  had 
put  a  book  in  her  hand,  or  read  a  poem  to  her,  her 
swift  intelligence  had  instantly  shed  a  new  light 
on  the  subject,  and,  penetrating  to  its  depths,  had 
extracted  from  them  whatever  belonged  to  her. 
What  a  pity  that  this  exquisite  insight,  this  intui 
tive  discrimination,  should  for  the  most  part  have 
been  spent  upon  reading  the  thoughts  of  vulgar 
people,  and  extracting  a  profit  from  them — should 
have  been  wasted,  since  her  childhood,  on  all  the 
hideous  intricacies  of  "  managing "! 

And  visible  beauty — how  she  cared  for  that  too ! 
He  had  not  guessed  it,  or  rather  he  had  not  been 
sure  of  it,  till  the  day  when,  on  their  way  through 
Paris,  he  had  taken  her  to  the  Louvre,  and  they 
had  stood  before  the  little  Crucifixion  of  Man- 
tegna.  He  had  not  been  looking  at  the  picture,  or 
watching  to  see  what  impression  it  produced  on 
Susy.  His  own  momentary  mood  was  for  Correg- 
gio  and  Fragonard,  the  laughter  of  the  Music  Les 
son  and  the  bold  pagan  joys  of  the  Antiope; 
and  then  he  had  missed  her  from  his  side,  and 
when  he  came  to  where  she  stood,  forgetting  him, 
forgetting  everything,  had  seen  the  glare  of  that 
tragic  sky  in  her  face,  her  trembling  lip,  the  tears 
on  her  lashes.  That  was  Susy.  .  .  . 

Closing  his  book  he  stole  a  glance  at  Coral 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      185 

Hicks 's  profile,  thrown  back  against  the  cushions 
of  the  deck-chair  at  his  side.  There  was  some 
thing  harsh  and  bracing  in  her  blunt  primitive 
build,  in  the  projection  of  the  black  eyebrows  that 
nearly  met  over  her  thick  straight  nose,  and  the 
faint  barely  visible  black  down  on  her  upper  lip. 
Some  miracle  of  will-power,  combined  with  all  the 
artifices  that  wealth  can  buy,  had  turned  the  fat 
sallow  girl  he  remembered  into  this  commanding 
young  woman,  almost  handsome — at  times  indis 
putably  handsome — in  her  big  authoritative  way. 
Watching  the  arrogant  lines  of  her  profile  against 
the  blue  sea,  he  remembered,  with  a  thrill  that  was 
sweet  to  his  vanity,  how  twice — under  the  dome  of 
the  Scalzi  and  in  the  streets  of  Genoa — he  had 
seen  those  same  lines  soften  at  his  approach,  turn 
womanly,  pleading  and  almost  humble.  That  was 
Coral.  .  .  . 

Suddenly  she  said,  without  turning  toward  him : 
"You've  had  no  letters  since  you've  been  on 
board." 

He  looked  at  her,  surprised.  "No — thank  the 
Lord ! "  he  laughed. 

"And  you  haven't  written  one  either,"  she  con 
tinued  in  her  hard  statistical  tone. 

"No,"  he  again  agreed,  with  the  same  laugh. 

"That  means  that  you  really  are  free — " 

"Free?" 

He  saw  the  cheek  nearest  him  redden.  "Really 
off  on  a  holiday,  I  mean;  not  tied  down." 


186      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

After  a  panse  he  rejoined:  "No,  I'm  not  par 
ticularly  tied  down." 

"And  your  book?" 

"Oh,  my  book — "  He  stopped  and  considered. 
He  had  thrust  The  Pageant  of  Alexander  into  his 
hand-bag  on  the  night  of  his  flight  from  Venice; 
but  since  then  he  had  never  looked  at  it.  Too 
many  memories  and  illusions  were  pressed  be 
tween  its  pages ;  and  he  knew  just  at  what  page  he 
had  felt  Ellie  Vanderlyn  bending  over  him  from 
behind,  caught  a  whiff  of  her  scent,  and  heard  her 
breathless  "I  had  to  thank  you!" 

"My  book's  hung  up,"  he  said  impatiently,  an 
noyed  with  Miss  Hicks 's  lack  of  tact.  There  was 
a  girl  who  never  put  out  feelers.  .  .  . 

"Yes;  I  thought  it  was,"  she  went  on  quietly, 
and  he  gave  her  a  startled  glance.  What  the  devil 
else  did  she  think,  he  wondered?  He  had  never 
supposed  her  capable  of  getting  far  enough  out 
of  her  own  thick  carapace  of  self-sufficiency  to 
penetrate  into  any  one  else's  feelings. 

"The  truth  is,"  he  continued,  embarrassed,  "I 
suppose  I  dug  away  at  it  rather  too  continuously ; 
that's  probably  why  I  felt  the  need  of  a  change. 
You  see  I'm  only  a  beginner." 

She  still  continued  her  relentless  questioning. 
"But  later — you'll  go  on  with  it,  of  course?" 

"Oh,  I  don't  know."  He  paused,  glanced  down 
the  glittering  deck,  and  then  out  across  the  glit 
tering  water.  "I've  been  dreaming  dreams,  you 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      187 

see.  I  rather  think  I  shall  have  to  drop  the  book 
altogether,  and  try  to  look  out  for  a  job  that  will 
pay.  To  indulge  in  my  kind  of  literature  one  must 
first  have  an  assured  income." 

He  was  instantly  annoyed  with  himself  for  hav 
ing  spoken.  Hitherto  in  his  relations  with  the 
Hickses  he  had  carefully  avoided  the  least  allu 
sion  that  might  make  him  feel  the  heavy  hand  of 
their  beneficence.  But  the  idle  procrastinating 
weeks  had  weakened  him  and  he  had  yielded  to  the 
need  of  putting  into  words  his  vague  intentions. 
To  do  so  would  perhaps  help  to  make  them  more 
definite. 

To  his  relief  Miss  Hicks  made  no  immediate 
reply ;  and  when  she  spoke  it  was  in  a  softer  voice, 
and  with  an  unwonted  hesitation. 

"It  seems  a  shame  that  with  gifts  like  yours 
you  shouldn't  find  some  kind  of  employment  that 
would  leave  you  leisure  enough  to  do  your  real 
work.  .  .  ." 

He  shrugged  ironically.  "Yes — there  are  a 
goodish  number  of  us  hunting  for  that  particular 
kind  of  employment." 

Her  tone  became  more  business-like.  "I  know 
it's  hard  to  find — almost  impossible.  But  would 
you  take  it,  I  wonder,  if  it  were  offered  to  you — ? " 

She  turned  her  head  slightly,  and  their  eyes  met. 
For  an  instant  blank  terror  loomed  upon  him ;  but 
before  he  had  time  to  face  it  she  continued,  in 
the  same  untroubled  voice:  "Mr.  Buttles 's  place. 


188      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

I  mean.  My  parents  must  absolutely  have  some 
one  they  can  count  on.  You  know  what  an  easy 
place  it  is.  ...  I  think  you  would  find  the  salary 
satisfactory." 

Nick  drew  a  deep  breath  of  relief.  For  a  mo 
ment  her  eyes  had  looked  as  they  had  in  the  Scalzi 
— and  he  liked  the  girl  too  much  not  to  shrink  from 
re-awakening  that  look.  But  Mr.  Buttles 's  place : 
why  not? 

"Poor  Buttles !"  he  murmured,  to  gain  time. 

"Oh,"  she  said,  "you  won't  find  the  same  rea 
sons  as  he  did  for  throwing  up  the  job.  He  was 
the  martyr  of  his  artistic  convictions. ' ' 

He  glanced  at  her  sideways,  wondering.  After 
all  she  did  not  know  of  his  meeting  with  Mr. 
Buttles  in  Genoa,  nor  of  the  latter 's  confidences; 
perhaps  she  did  not  even  know  of  Mr.  Buttles 's 
hopeless  passion.  At  any  rate  her  face  remained 
calm. 

"Why  not  consider  it — at  least  just  for  a  few 
months?  Till  after  our  expedition  to  Mesopo 
tamia?"  she  pressed  on,  a  little  breathlessly. 

"You're  awfully  kind:  but  I  don't  know — " 

She  stood  up  with  one  of  her  abrupt  movements. 
"You  needn't,  all  at  once.  Take  time — think  it 
over.  Father  wanted  me  to  ask  you,"  she  ap 
pended. 

He  felt  the  inadequacy  of  his  response.  "It 
tempts  me  awfully,  of  course.  But  I  must  wait, 
at  any  rate — wait  for  letters.  The  faot  is  I  shall 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      189 

have  to  wire  from  Rhodes  to  have  them  sent.  I 
had  chucked  everything,  even  letters,  for  a  few 
weeks. ' ' 

"Ah,  yon  are  tired,"  she  murmured,  giving  him 
a  last  downward  glance  as  she  turned  away. 

From  Ehodes  Nick  Lansing  telegraphed  to  his 
Paris  bank  to  send  his  letters  to  Candia ;  but  when 
the  Ibis  reached  Candia,  and  the  mail  was  brought 
on  board,  the  thick  envelope  handed  to  him  con 
tained  no  letter  from  Susy. 

Why  should  it,  since  he  had  not  yet  written  to 
her? 

He  had  not  written,  no:  but  in  sending  his  ad 
dress  to  the  bank  he  knew  he  had  given  her  the 
opportunity  of  reaching  him  if  she  wished  to. 
And  she  had  made  no  sign. 

Late  that  afternoon,  when  they  returned  to  the 
yacht  from  their  first  expedition,  a  packet  of 
newspapers  lay  on  the  deck-house  table.  Nick 
picked  up  one  of  the  London  journals,  and  his  eye 
ran  absently  down  the  list  of  social  events. 

He  read: 

"Among  the  visitors  expected  next  week  at 
Euan  Castle  (let  for  the  season  to  Mr.  Frederick 
J.  Gillow  of  New  York)  are  Prince  Altineri  of 
Eome,  the  Earl  of  Altringham  and  Mrs.  Nicholas 
Lansing,  who  arrived  in  London  last  week  from 
Paris." 


190      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Nick  threw  down  the  paper.  It  was  just  a 
month  since  he  had  left  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn 
and  flung  himself  into  the  night  express  for  Milan. 
A  whole  month — and  Susy  had  not  written.  Only 
a  month — and  Susy  and  Strefford  were  already  to 
gether  ! 


XVII 

SUSY  had  decided  to  wait  for  Strefford  in 
London. 

The  new  Lord  Altringham  was  with  his  family 
in  the  north,  and  though  she  found  a  telegram  on 
arriving,  saying  that  he  would  join  her  in  town 
the  following  week,  she  had  still  an  interval  of 
several  days  to  fill. 

London  was  a  desert ;  the  rain  fell  without  ceas 
ing,  and  alone  in  the  shabby  family  hotel  which, 
even  out  of  season,  was  the  best  she  could  afford, 
she  sat  at  last  face  to  face  with  herself. 

From  the  moment  when  Violet  Melrose  had 
failed  to  carry  out  her  plan  for  the  Fulmer  chil 
dren  her  interest  in  Susy  had  visibly  waned.  Often 
before,  in  the  old  days,  Susy  Branch  had  felt  the 
same  abrupt  change  of  temperature  in  the  manner 
of  the  hostess  of  the  moment;  and  often — how 
often! — had  yielded,  and  performed  the  required 
service,  rather  than  risk  the  consequences  of  es 
trangement.  To  that,  at  least,  thank  heaven,  she 
need  never  stoop  again. 

But  as  she  hurriedly  packed  her  trunks  at  Ver 
sailles,  scraped  together  an  adequate  tip  for  Mrs. 
Match,  and  bade  good-bye  to  Violet  (grown  sud 
denly  fond  and  demonstrative  as  she  saw  her 

191 


192      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

visitor  safely  headed  for  the  station) — as  Susy; 
went  through  the  old  familiar  mummery  of  the 
enforced  leave-taking,  there  rose  in  her  so  deep  a 
disgust  for  the  life  of  makeshifts  and  accommo 
dations,  that  if  at  that  moment  Nick  had  reap 
peared  and  held  out  his  arms  to  her,  she  was  not 
sure  she  would  have  had  the  courage  to  return  to 
them. 

In  her  London  solitude  the  thirst  for  indepen 
dence  grew  fiercer.  Independence  with  ease,  of 
course.  Oh,  her  hateful  useless  love  of  beauty 
.  .  .  the  curse  it  had  always  been  to  her,  the  bless 
ing  it  might  have  been  if  only  she  had  had  the 
material  means  to  gratify  and  to  express  it !  And 
instead,  it  only  gave  her  a  morbid  loathing  of  that 
hideous  hotel  bedroom  drowned  in  yellow  rain- 
light,  of  the  smell  of  soot  and  cabbage  through 
the  window,  the  blistered  wall-paper,  the  dusty 
wax  bouquets  under  glass  globes,  and  the  electric 
lighting  so  contrived  that  as  you  turned  on  the 
feeble  globe  hanging  from  the  middle  of  the  ceiling 
the  feebler  one  beside  the  bed  went  out ! 

What  a  sham  world  she  and  Nick  had  lived  in 
during  their  few  months  together!  What  right 
had  either  of  them  to  those  exquisite  settings  of 
the  life  of  leisure :  the  long  white  house  hidden  in 
camellias  and  cypresses  above  the  lake,  or  the 
great  rooms  on  the  Giudecca  with  the  shimmer  of 
the  canal  always  playing  over  their  frescoed  ceil 
ings?  Yet  she  had  come  to  imagine  that  these 
places  really  belonged  to  them,  that  they  would  al- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      193 

ways  go  on  living,  fondly  and  irreproachably,  in 
the  frame  of  other  people's  wealth.  .  .  .  That, 
again,  was  the  curse  of  her  love  of  beauty,  the  way 
she  always  took  to  it  as  if  it  belonged  to  her ! 

Well,  the  awakening  was  bound  to  come,  and  it 
was  perhaps  better  that  it  should  have  come  so 
soon.  At  any  rate  there  was  no  use  in  letting  her 
thoughts  wander  back  to  that  shattered  fool's 
paradise  of  theirs.  Only,  as  she  sat  there  and 
reckoned  up  the  days  till  Strefford  arrived,  what 
else  in  the  world  was  there  to  think  of? 

Her  future  and  his  ? 

But  she  knew  that  future  by  heart  already !  She 
had  not  spent  her  life  among  the  rich  and  fashion 
able  without  having  learned  every  detail  of  the 
trappings  of  a  rich  and  fashionable  marriage. 
She  had  calculated  long  ago  just  how  many  din 
ner-dresses,  how  many  tea-gowns  and  how  much 
lacy  lingerie  would  go  to  make  up  the  outfit  of 
the  future  Countess  of  Altringham.  She  had  even 
decided  to  which  dress-maker  she  would  go  for  her 
chinchilla  cloak — for  she  meant  to  have  one,  and 
down  to  her  feet,  and  softer  and  more  voluminous 
and  more  extravagantly  sumptuous  than  Violet's 
or  Ursula's  .  .  .  not  to  speak  of  silver  foxes  and 
sables  .  .  .  nor  yet  of  the  Altringham  jewels. 

She  knew  all  this  by  heart;  had  always  known 
it.  It  all  belonged  to  the  make-up  of  the  life  of 
elegance :  there  was  nothing  new  about  it.  What 
had  been  new  to  her  was  just  that  short  interval 
with  Nick — a  life  unreal  indeed  in  its  setting,  but 


194      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

so  real  in  its  essentials:  the  one  reality  she  had 
ever  known.  As  she  looked  back  on  it  she  saw 
how  much  it  had  given  her  besides  the  golden  flush 
of  her  happiness,  the  sudden  flowering  of  sensu 
ous  joy  in  heart  and  body.  Yes — there  had  been 
the  flowering  too,  in  pain  like  birth-pangs,  of 
something  graver,  stronger,  fuller  of  future 
power,  something  she  had  hardly  heeded  in  her 
first  light  rapture,  but  that  always  came  back  and 
possessed  her  stilled  soul  when  the  rapture  sank : 
the  deep  disquieting  sense  of  something  that  Nick 
and  love  had  taught  her,  but  that  reached  out  even 
beyond  love  and  beyond  Nick. 

Her  nerves  were  racked  by  the  ceaseless  swish- 
swish  of  the  rain  on  the  dirty  panes  and  the  smell 
of  cabbage  and  coal  that  came  in  under  the  door 
when  she  shut  the  window.  This  nauseating  fore 
taste  of  the  luncheon  she  must  presently  go  down 
to  was  more  than  she  could  bear.  It  brought  with 
it  a  vision  of  the  dank  coffee-room  below,  the  sooty 
Smyrna  rug,  the  rain  on  the  sky-light,  the  listless 
waitresses  handing  about  food  that  tasted  as  if  it 
had  been  rained  on  too.  There  was  really  no  rea 
son  why  she  should  let  such  material  miseries  add 
to  her  depression.  .  .  . 

She  sprang  up,  put  on  her  hat  and  jacket,  and 
calling  for  a  taxi  drove  to  the  London  branch  of 
the  Nouveau  Luxe  hotel.  It  was  just  one  o'clock 
and  she  was  sure  to  pick  up  a  luncheon,  for  though 
London  was  empty  that  great  establishment  was 
not.  It  never  was.  Along  those  sultry  velvet-car- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      195 

peted  halls,  in  that  great  flowered  and  scented  din 
ing-room,  there  was  always  a  come-and-go  of  rich 
aimless  people,  the  busy  people  who,  having  noth 
ing  to  do,  perpetually  pursue  their  inexorable 
task  from  one  end  of  the  earth  to  the  other. 

Oh,  the  monotony  of  those  faces — the  faces  one 
always  knew,  whether  one  knew  the  people  they 
belonged  to  or  not !  A  fresh  disgust  seized  her  at 
the  sight  of  them:  she  wavered,  and  then  turned 
and  fled.  But  on  the  threshold  a  still  more  fa 
miliar  figure  met  her:  that  of  a  lady  in  exag 
gerated  pearls  and  sables,  descending  from  an  ex 
aggerated  motor,  like  the  motors  in  magazine  ad 
vertisements,  the  huge  arks  in  which  jewelled 
beauties  and  slender  youths  pause  to  gaze  at  snow- 
peaks  from  an  Alpine  summit. 

It  was  Ursula  Gillow — dear  old  Ursula,  on  her 
way  to  Scotland — and  she  and  Susy  fell  on  each 
other's  necks.  It  appeared  that  Ursula,  detained 
till  the  next  evening  by  a  dress-maker's  delay,  was 
also  out  of  a  job  and  killing  time,  and  the  two  were 
soon  smiling  at  each  other  over  the  exquisite  pre 
liminaries  of  a  luncheon  which  the  head-waiter 
had  authoritatively  asked  Mrs.  Gillow  to  "leave 
to  him,  as  usual." 

Ursula  was  in  a  good  humour.  It  did  not  often 
happen ;  but  when  it  did  her  benevolence  knew  no 
bounds. 

Like  Mrs.  Melrose,  like  all  her  tribe  in  fact,  she 
was  too  much  absorbed  in  her  own  affairs  to  give 
more  than  a  passing  thought  to  any  one  else 's ;  but 


196      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

she  was  delighted  at  the  meeting  with  Susy,  as  her 
wandering  kind  always  were  when  they  ran  across 
fellow-wanderers,  unless  the  meeting  happened  to 
interfere  with  choicer  pleasures.  Not  to  be  alone 
was  the  urgent  thing;  and  Ursula,  who  had  been 
forty-eight  hours  alone  in  London,  at  once  exacted 
from  her  friend  a  promise  that  they  should  spend 
the  rest  of  the  day  together.  But  once  the  bar 
gain  struck  her  mind  turned  again  to  her  own 
affairs,  and  she  poured  out  her  confidences  to 
Susy  over  a  succession  of  dishes  that  manifested 
the  head- waiter's  understanding  of  the  case. 

Ursula's  confidences  were  always  the  same, 
though  they  were  usually  about  a  different  person. 
She  demolished  and  rebuilt  her  sentimental  life 
with  the  same  frequency  and  impetuosity  as  that 
with  which  she  changed  her  dress-makers,  did  over 
her  drawing-rooms,  ordered  new  motors,  altered 
the  mounting  of  her  jewels,  and  generally  renewed 
the  setting  of  her  life.  Susy  knew  in  advance  what 
the  tale  would  be ;  but  to  listen  to  it  over  perfect 
coffee,  an  amber-scented  cigarette  at  her  lips,  was 
pleasanter  than  consuming  cold  mutton  alone  in 
a  mouldy  coffee-room.  The  contrast  was  so  sooth 
ing  that  she  even  began  to  take  a  languid  interest 
in  her  friend's  narrative. 

After  luncheon  they  got  into  the  motor  together 
and  began  a  systematic  round  of  the  West  End 
shops:  furriers,  jewellers  and  dealers  in  old  fur 
niture.  Nothing  could  be  more  unlike  Violet  Mel- 
rose's  long  hesitating  sessions  before  the  things 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      197 

she  thought  she  wanted  till  the  moment  came  to 
decide.  Ursula  pounced  on  silver  foxes  and  old 
lacquer  as  promptly  and  decisively  as  on  the  ob 
jects  of  her  surplus  sentimentality:  she  knew  at 
once  what  she  wanted,  and  valued  it  more  after 
it  was  hers. 

"And  now — I  wonder  if  you  couldn't  help  me 
choose  a  grand  piano  ? ' '  she  suggested,  as  the  last 
antiquarian  bowed  them  out. 

"A  piano?" 

"Yes:  for  Euan.  I'm  sending  one  down  for 
Grace  Fulmer.  She's  coming  to  stay  .  .  .  did  I 
tell  you?  I  want  people  to  hear  her.  I  want  her 
to  get  engagements  in  London.  My  dear,  she's  a 
Genius." 

' '  A  Genius — Grace  ? ' '  Susy  gasped.  ' 1 1  thought 
it  was  Nat.  ..." 

"Nat — Nat  Fulmer?"  Ursula  laughed  deris 
ively.  "Ah,  of  course — you've  been  staying  with 
that  silly  Violet !  The  poor  thing  is  off  her  head 
about  Nat — it's  really  pitiful.  Of  course  he  has 
talent:  I  saw  that  long  before  Violet  had  ever 
heard  of  him.  Why,  on  the  opening  day  of 
the  American  Artists'  exhibition,  last  winter,  I 
stopped  short  before  his  'Spring  Snow-Storm' 
(which  nobody  else  had  noticed  till  that  moment), 
and  said  to  the  Prince,  who  was  with  me : '  The  man 
has  talent. '  But  genius — why,  it 's  his  wife  who  has 
genius !  Have  you  never  heard  Grace  play  the  violin? 
Poor  Violet,  as  usual,  is  off  on  the  wrong  tack. 
I've  given  Fulmer  my  garden-house  to  do — no 


198      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

doubt  Violet  told  you — because  I  wanted  to  help 
him.  But  Grace  is  my  discovery,  and  I'm  deter 
mined  to  make  her  known,  and  to  have  every  one 
understand  that  she  is  the  genius  of  the  two.  I've 
told  her  she  simply  must  come  to  Euan,  and  bring 
the  best  accompanyist  she  can  find.  You  know 
poor  Nerone  is  dreadfully  bored  by  sport,  though 
of  course  he  goes  out  with  the  guns.  And  if  one 
didn't  have  a  little  art  in  the  evening.  .  .  .  Oh, 
Susy,  do  you  mean  to  tell  me  you  don 't  know  how 
to  choose  a  piano?  I  thought  you  were  so  fond  of 
music!" 

"I  am  fond  of  it ;  but  without  knowing  anything 
about  it — in  the  way  we're  all  of  us  fond  of  the 
worth-while  things  in  our  stupid  set,"  she  added 
to  herself — since  it  was  obviously  useless  to  im 
part  such  reflections  to  Ursula. 

"But  are  you  sure  Grace  is  coming! "  she  ques 
tioned  aloud. 

" Quite  sure.  Why  shouldn't  she  I  wired  to 
her  yesterday.  I'm  giving  her  a  thousand  dollars 
and  all  her  expenses." 

It  was  not  till  they  were  having  tea  in  a  Picca 
dilly  tea-room  that  Mrs.  Gillow  began  to  manifest 
some  interest  in  her  companion's  plans.  The 
thought  of  losing  Susy  became  suddenly  intoler 
able  to  her.  The  Prince,  who  did  not  see  why  he 
should  be  expected  to  linger  in  London  out  of 
season,  was  already  at  Ruan,  and  Ursula  could 
not  face  the  evening  and  the  whole  of  the  next  day 
by  herself. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      199 

"But  what  are  you  doing  in  town,  darling?  I 
don't  remember  if  I've  asked  you,"  she  said,  rest 
ing  her  firm  elbows  on  the  tea-table  while  she  took 
a  light  from  Susy's  cigarette. 

Susy  hesitated.  She  had  foreseen  that  the  time 
must  soon  come  when  she  should  have  to  give 
some  account  of  herself;  and  why  should  she  not 
begin  by  telling  Ursula? 

But  telling  her  what? 

Her  silence  appeared  to  strike  Mrs.  Gillow  as 
a  reproach,  and  she  continued  with  compunction: 
"And  Nick?  Nick's  with  you?  How  is  he?  I 
thought  you  and  he  still  were  in  Venice  with  Ellie 
Vanderlyn." 

"We  were,  for  a  few  weeks."  She  steadied  her 
voice.  "It  was  delightful.  But  now  we're  both 
on  our  own  again — for  a  while." 

Mrs.  Gillow  scrutinized  her  more  searchingly* 
"Oh,  you're  alone  here,  then;  quite  alone?" 

"Yes:  Nick's  cruising  with  some  friends  in  the 
Mediterranean. ' ' 

Ursula's  shallow  gaze  deepened  singularly. 
"But,  Susy  darling,  then  if  you're  alone — and  out 
of  a  job,  just  for  the  moment?" 

Susy  smiled.    "Well,  I'm  not  sure." 

"Oh,  but  if  you  are,  darling,  and  you  would 
come  to  Euan!  I  know  Fred  asked  you — didn't 
he?  And  he  told  me  that  both  you  and  Nick  had 
refused.  He  was  awfully  huffed  at  your  not  com 
ing;  but  I  suppose  that  was  because  Nick  had 
other  plans.  We  couldn't  have  him  now,  because 


200  THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

there's  no  room  for  another  gun;  bnt  since  he's 
not  here,  and  you're  free,  why  you  know,  dearest, 
don't  you,  how  we'd  love  to  have  you?  Fred 
would  be  too  glad — too  outrageously  glad — but 
you  don't  much  mind  Fred's  love-making,  do  you? 
And  you'd  be  such  a  help  to  me — if  that's  any 
argument !  With  that  big  house  full  of  men,  and 
people  flocking  over  every  night  to  dine,  and  Fred 
caring  only  for  sport,  and  Nerone  simply  loath 
ing  it  and  ridiculing  it,  and  not  a  minute  to  my 
self  to  try  to  keep  him  in  a  good  humour.  .  .  .  Oh, 
Susy  darling,  don't  say  no,  but  let  me  telephone 
at  once  for  a  place  in  the  train  to-morrow  night!" 

Susy  leaned  back,  letting  the  ash  lengthen  on 
her  cigarette.  How  familiar,  how  hatefully  fa 
miliar,  was  that  old  appeal!  Ursula  felt  the 
pressing  need  of  someone  to  flirt  with  Fred  for 
a  few  weeks  .  .  .  and  here  was  the  very  person 
she  needed.  Susy  shivered  at  the  thought.  She 
ihad  never  really  meant  to  go  to  Euan.  She  had 
simply  used  the  moor  as  a  pretext  when  Violet 
Melrose  had  gently  put  her  out  of  doors.  Rather 
than  do  what  Ursula  asked  she  would  borrow  a 
few  hundred  pounds  of  Strefford,  as  he  had  sug 
gested,  and  then  look  about  for  some  temporary 
occupation  until — 

Until  she  became  Lady  Altringharn?  Well, 
perhaps.  At  any  rate,  she  was  not  going  back  to 
slave  for  Ursula. 

She  shook  her  head  with  a  Saint  smile.    "I'm  so 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      201 

sorry,  Ursula:  of  course  I  want  awfully  to  oblige 
you — " 

Mrs.  Gillow's  gaze  grew  reproachful.  "I 
should  have  supposed  you  would,"  she  murmured. 
Susy,  meeting  her  eyes,  looked  into  them  down  a 
long  vista  of  favours  bestowed,  and  perceived 
that  Ursula  was  not  the  woman  to  forget  on  which 
side  the  obligation  lay  between  them. 

Susy  hesitated:  she  remembered  the  weeks  of 
ecstasy  she  had  owed  to  the  Gillows'  wedding 
cheque,  and  it  hurt  her  to  appear  ungrateful. 

"If  I  could,  Ursula  .  .  .  but  really  .  .  .  I'm 
not  free  at  the  moment."  She  paused,  and  then 
took  an  abrupt  decision.  "The  fact  is,  I'm  wait 
ing  here  to  see  Strefford. ' ' 

"Strefford?  Lord  Altringham?"  Ursula 
stared.  "Ah,  yes — I  remember.  You  and  he 
used  to  be  great  friends,  didn't  you?"  Her  rov 
ing  attention  deepened.  .  .  .  But  if  Susy  were 
waiting  to  see  Lord  Altringham — one  of  the  rich 
est  men  in  England?  Suddenly  Ursula  opened 
her  gold-meshed  bag  and  snatched  a  miniature 
diary  from  it. 

"But  wait  a  moment — yes,  it  is  next  week!  I 
knew  it  was  next  week  he 's  coming  to  Euan !  But, 
you  darling,  that  makes  everything  all  right. 
You'll  send  him  a  wire  at  once,  and  come  with 
me  to-morrow,  and  meet  him  there  instead  of  in 
this  nasty  sloppy  desert.  .  .  .  Oh,  Susy,  if  you 
knew  how  hard  life  is  for  me  in  Scotland  between 


202      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  Prince  and  Fred  yon  couldn't  possibly  say 
nor9 

Susy  still  wavered;  but,  after  all,  if  Strefford 
were  really  bound  for  Euan,  why  not  see  him 
there,  agreeably  and  at  leisure,  instead  of  spend 
ing  a  dreary  day  with  him  in  roaming  the  wet 
London  streets,  or  screaming  at  him  through  the 
rattle  of  a  restaurant  orchestra?  She  knew  he 
would  not  be  likely  to  postpone  his  visit  to  Ruan 
in  order  to  linger  in  London  with  her:  such  con 
cessions  had  never  been  his  way,  and  were  less 
than  ever  likely  to  be,  now  that  he  could  do  so 
thoroughly  and  completely  as  he  pleased. 

For  the  first  time  she  fully  understood  how  dif 
ferent  his  destiny  had  become.  Now  of  course 
all  his  days  and  hours  were  mapped  out  in  ad 
vance:  invitations  assailed  him,  opportunities 
pressed  on  him,  he  had  only  to  choose.  .  .  .  And 
the  women !  She  had  never  before  thought  of  the 
women.  All  the  girls  in  England  would  be  want 
ing  to  marry  him,  not  to  mention  her  own  enter 
prising  compatriots.  And  there  were  the  married 
women,  who  were  even  more  to  be  feared.  Streff 
might,  for  the  time,  escape  marriage ;  though  she 
could  guess  the  power  of  persuasion,  family  pres 
sure,  all  the  converging  traditional  influences  he 
had  so  often  ridiculed,  yet,  as  she  knew,  had  never 
completely  thrown  off.  .  .  .  Yes,  those  quiet  in 
visible  women  at  Altringham — his  uncle's  widow, 
his  mother,  the  spinster  sisters — it  was  not  impos 
sible  that,  with  tact  and  patience — and  the  stupid- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      203 

est  women  conld  be  tactful  and  patient  on  such 
occasions — they  might  eventually  persuade  him 
that  it  was  his  duty,  they  might  put  just  the  right 
young  loveliness  in  his  way.  .  .  .  But  meanwhile, 
now,  at  once,  there  were  the  married  women.  Ah, 
they  wouldn't  wait,  they  were  doubtless  laying 
their  traps  already!  Susy  shivered  at  the 
thought.  She  knew  too  much  about  the  way  the 
trick  was  done,  had  followed,  too  often,  all  the 
sinuosities  of  such  approaches.  Not  that  they  were 
very  sinuous  nowadays:  more  often  there  was 
just  a  swoop  and  a  pounce  when  the  time  came; 
but  she  knew  all  the  arts  and  the  wiles  that  led 
up  to  it.  She  knew  them,  oh,  how  she  knew  them 
— though  with  Streff,  thank  heaven,  she  had  never 
been  called  upon  to  exercise  them!  His  love  was 
there  for  the  asking:  would  she  not  be  a  fool  to 
refuse  it? 

Perhaps;  though  on  that  point  her  mind  still 
wavered.  But  at  any  rate  she  saw  that,  decidedly, 
it  would  be  better  to  yield  to  Ursula's  pressure; 
better  to  meet  him  at  Euan,  in  a  congenial  setting, 
where  she  would  have  time  to  get  her  bearings, 
observe  what  dangers  threatened  him,  and  make 
up  her  mind  whether,  after  all,  it  was  to  be  her 
mission  to  save  him  from  the  other  women.  .  .  . 
"Well,  if  you  like,  then,  Ursula.  ..." 
"Oh,  you  angel,  you!  I'm  so  glad!  We'll  go 
to  the  nearest  post  office,  and  send  off  the  wire 
ourselves." 


204      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

As  they  got  into  the  motor  Mrs.  Gillow  seized 
Susy's  arm  with  a  pleading  pressure.  "And  you 
will  let  Fred  make  love  to  you  a  little,  won't  you, 
darling?" 


XVIII 

"TjUT  I  can't  think,"  said  Ellie  Vanderlyn 
Jti  earnestly,  "why  you  don't  announce  your 
engagement  before  waiting  for  your  divorce. 
People  are  beginning  to  do  it,  I  assure  you — it's 
so  much  safer!" 

Mrs.  Vanderlyn,  on  the  way  back  from  St. 
Moritz  to  England,  had  paused  in  Paris  to  renew 
the  depleted  wardrobe  which,  only  two  months 
earlier,  had  filled  so  many  trunks  to  bursting. 
Other  ladies,  flocking  there  from  all  points  of  the 
globe  for  the  same  purpose,  disputed  with  her  the 
Louis  XVI  suites  of  the  Nouveau  Luxe,  the  pink- 
candled  tables  in  the  restaurant,  the  hours  for 
trying-on  at  the  dress-makers';  and  just  because 
they  were  so  many,  and  all  feverishly  fighting  to 
get  the  same  things  at  the  same  time,  they  were 
all  excited,  happy  and  at  ease.  It  was  the  most 
momentous  period  of  the  year:  the  height  of  the 
"dress-makers'  season." 

Mrs.  Vanderlyn  had  run  across  Susy  Lansing 
at  one  of  the  Rue  de  la  Paix  openings,  where  rows 
of  ladies  wan  with  heat  and  emotion  sat  for  hours 
in  rapt  attention  while  spectral  apparitions  in  in 
credible  raiment  tottered  endlessly  past  them  on 
aching  feet. 

205 


206      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Distracted  from  the  regal  splendours  of  a  chin 
chilla  cloak  by  the  sense  that  another  lady  was 
also  examining  it,  Mrs.  Vanderlyn  turned  in  sur 
prise  at  sight  of  Susy,  whose  head  was  critically 
bent  above  the  fur. 

"Susy!  I'd  no  idea  you  were  here!  I  saw  in 
the  papers  that  you  were  with  the  Gillows."  The 
customary  embraces  followed;  then  Mrs.  Van 
derlyn,  her  eyes  pursuing  the  matchless  cloak  as 
it  disappeared  down  a  vista  of  receding  manne 
quins,  interrogated  sharply:  "Are  you  shopping 
for  Ursula?  If  you  mean  to  order  that  cloak  for 
her  I'd  rather  know." 

Susy  smiled,  and  paused  a  moment  before  an 
swering.  During  the  pause  she  took  in  all  the 
exquisite  details  of  Ellie  Vanderlyn 's  perpetually 
youthful  person,  from  the  plumed  crown  of  her 
head  to  the  perfect  arch  of  her  patent-leather 
shoes.  At  last  she  said  quietly:  "No — to-day  I'm 
shopping  for  myself." 

"Yourself?  Yourself?"  Mrs.  Vanderlyn 
echoed  with  a  stare  of  incredulity. 

"Yes;  just  for  a  change,"  Susy  serenely  ac 
knowledged. 

"But  the  cloak — I  meant  the  chinchilla  cloak 
.  .  .  the  one  with  the  ermine  lining.  ..." 

"Yes;  it  is  awfully  good,  isn't  it?  But  I  mean 
to  look  elsewhere  before  I  decide." 

Ah,  how  often  she  had  heard  her  friends  use 
that  phrase ;  and  how  amusing  it  was,  now,  to  see 
Ellie 's  amazement  as  she  heard  it  tossed  off  in 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      207 

her  own  tone  of  contemptuous  satiety !  Susy  was 
becoming  more  and  more  dependent  on  such  di 
versions  ;  without  them  her  days,  crowded  as  they 
were,  would  nevertheless  have  dragged  by  heav 
ily.  But  it  still  amused  her  to  go  to  the  big  dress 
makers  ',  watch  the  mannequins  sweep  by,  and  be 
seen  by  her  friends  superciliously  examining  all 
the  most  expensive  dresses  in  the  procession.  She 
knew  the  rumour  was  abroad  that  she  and  Nick 
were  to  be  divorced,  and  that  Lord  Altringham 
was  ''devoted'*  to  her.  She  neither  confirmed  nor 
denied  the  report:  she  just  let  herself  be  luxuri 
ously  carried  forward  on  its  easy  tide.  But  al 
though  it  was  now  three  months  since  Nick  had 
left  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn  she  had  not  yet  writ 
ten  to  him — nor  he  to  her. 

Meanwhile,  in  spite  of  all  that  she  packed  into 
them,  the  days  passed  more  and  more  slowly,  and 
the  excitements  she  had  counted  on  no  longer  ex 
cited  her.  StrefFord  was  hers:  she  knew  that  he 
would  marry  her  as  soon  as  she  was  free.  They 
had  been  together  at  Ruan  for  ten  days,  and  after 
that  she  had  motored  south  with  him,  stopping 
on  the  way  to  see  Altringham,  from  which,  at  the 
moment,  his  mourning  relatives  were  absent. 

At  Altringham  they  had  parted;  and  after  one 
or  two  more  visits  in  England  she  had  come  back 
to  Paris,  where  he  was  now  about  to  join  her. 
After  her  few  hours  at  Altringham  she  had  under 
stood  that  he  would  wait  for  her  as  long  as  was 
necessary:  the  fear  of  the  " other  women"  had 


208      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ceased  to  trouble  her.  But,  perhaps  for  that  very 
reason,  the  future  seemed  less  exciting  than  she 
had  expected.  Sometimes  she  thought  it  was  the 
sight  of  that  great  house  which  had  overwhelmed 
her :  it  was  too  vast,  too  venerable,  too  like  a  huge 
monument  built  of  ancient  territorial  traditions 
and  obligations.  Perhaps  it  had  been  lived  in  for 
too  long  by  too  many  serious-minded  and  con 
scientious  women:  somehow  she  could  not  picture 
it  invaded  by  bridge  and  debts  and  adultery.  And 
yet  that  was  what  would  have  to  be,  of  course  .  .  . 
she  could  hardly  picture  either  Strefford  or  her 
self  continuing  there  the  life  of  heavy  county  re 
sponsibilities,  dull  parties,  laborious  duties, 
weekly  church-going,  and  presiding  over  local 
committees.  .  .  .  What  a  pity  they  couldn't  sell 
it  and  have  a  little  house  on  the  Thames ! 

Nevertheless  she  was  not  sorry  to  let  it  be 
known  that  Altringham  was  hers  when  she  chose 
to  take  it.  At  times  she  wondered  whether  Nick 
knew  .  .  .  whether  rumours  had  reached  him.  If 
they  had,  he  had  only  his  own  letter  to  thank  for 
it.  He  had  told  her  what  course  to  pursue;  and 
she  was  pursuing  it. 

For  a  moment  the  meeting  with  Ellie  Vanderlyn 
had  been  a  shock  to  her;  she  had  hoped  never  to 
see  Ellie  again.  But  now  that  they  were  actually 
face  to  face  Susy  perceived  how  dulled  her  sen 
sibilities  were.  In  a  few  moments  she  had  grown 
used  to  Ellie,  as  she  was  growing  used  to  every 
body  and  to  everything  in  the  old  life  she  had 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      209 

returned  to.  What  was  the  use  of  making  such 
a  fuss  about  things?  She  and  Mrs.  Vanderlyn 
left  the  dress-maker's  together,  and  after  an  ab 
sorbing  session  at  a  new  milliner 's  were  now  tak 
ing  tea  in  Ellie 's  drawing-room  at  the  Nouveau 
Luxe. 

Ellie,  with  her  spoiled  child's  persistency,  had 
come  back  to  the  question  of  the  chinchilla  cloak. 
It  was  the  only  one  she  had  seen  that  she  fancied 
in  the  very  least,  and  as  she  hadn't  a  decent  fur 
garment  left  to  her  name  she  was  naturally  in 
somewhat  of  a  hurry  .  .  .  but,  of  course,  if  Susy 
had  been  choosing  that  model  for  a  friend.  .  .  . 

Susy,  leaning  back  aginst  her  cushions,  ex 
amined  through  half -closed  lids  Mrs.  Vanderlyn 's 
small  delicately-restored  countenance,  which  wore 
the  same  expression  of  childish  eagerness  as  when 
she  discoursed  of  the  young  Davenant  of  the  mo 
ment.  Once  again  Susy  remarked  that,  in  Ellie 's 
agitated  existence,  every  interest  appeared  to  be 
on  exactly  the  same  plane. 

"The  poor  shivering  dear,"  she  answered 
laughing,  "of  course  it  shall  have  its  nice  warm 
winter  cloak,  and  I'll  choose  another  one  in 
stead.  ' ' 

"Oh,  you  darling,  you!  If  you  would!  Of 
course,  whoever  you  were  ordering  it  for  need 
never  know.  ..." 

"Ah,  you  can't  comfort  yourself  with  that,  I'm 
afraid.  I've  already  told  you  that  I  was  order 
ing  it  for  myself. ' '  Susy  paused  to  savour  to  the 


210      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

full  Ellie 's  look  of  blank  bewilderment;  then  her 
amusement  was  checked  by  an  indefinable  change 
in  her  friend's  expression. 

"Oh,  dearest — seriously?  I  didn't  know  there 
was  someone.  ..." 

Susy  flushed  to  the  forehead.  A  horror  of  hu 
miliation  overwhelmed  her.  That  Ellie  should 
dare  to  think  that  of  her — that  anyone  should 
dare  to! 

"Someone  buying  chinchilla  cloaks  for  me? 
Thanks ! ' '  she  flared  out.  '  *  I  suppose  I  ought  to 
be  glad  that  the  idea  didn't  immediately  occur  to 
you.  At  least  there  was  a  decent  interval  of 
doubt.  ..."  She  stood  up,  laughing  again,  and 
began  to  wander  about  the  room.  In  the  mirror 
above  the  mantel  she  caught  sight  of  her  flushed 
angry  face,  and  of  Mrs.  Vanderlyn's  disconcerted 
stare.  She  turned  toward  her  friend. 

"I  suppose  everybody  else  will  think  it  if  you 
do;  so  perhaps  I'd  better  explain."  She  paused, 
and  drew  a  quick  breath.  "Nick  and  I  mean  to 
part — have  parted,  in  fact.  He's  decided  that 
the  whole  thing  was  a  mistake.  He  will  probably 
marry  again  soon — and  so  shall  I." 

She  flung  the  avowal  out  breathlessly,  in  her 
nervous  dread  of  letting  Ellie  Vanderlyn  think 
for  an  instant  longer  that  any  other  explanation 
was  conceivable.  She  had  not  meant  to  be  so 
explicit ;  but  once  the  words  were  spoken  she  was 
not  altogether  sorry.  Of  course  people  would 
soon  begin  to  wonder  why  she  was  again  straying 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      211 

about  the  world  alone;  and  since  it  was  by  Nick's 
choice,  why  should  she  not  say  so?  Kemember- 
ing  the  burning  anguish  of  those  last  hours  in 
Venice  she  asked  herself  what  possible  consider 
ation  she  owed  to  the  man  who  had  so  humbled 
her. 

Ellie  Vanderlyn  glanced  at  her  in  astonishment. 
"You?  You  and  Nick — are  going  to  part?"  A 
light  appeared  to  dawn  on  her.  "Ah — then  that's 
why  he  sent  me  back  my  pin,  I  suppose?" 

"Your  pin?"  Susy  wondered,  not  at  once  re 
membering. 

"The  poor  little  scarf-pin  I  gave  him  before  I 
left  Venice.  He  sent  it  back  almost  at  once,  with 
the  oddest  note — just:  'I  haven't  earned  it, 
really.'  I  couldn't  think  why  he  didn't  care  fof 
the  pin.  But,  now  I  suppose  it  was  because  you 
and  he  had  quarrelled;  though  really,  even  so,  I 
can't  see  why  he  should  bear  me  a  grudge.  ..." 

Susy's  quick  blood  surged  up.  Nick  had  sent 
back  the  pin — the  fatal  pin !  And  she,  Susy,  had 
kept  the  bracelet — locked  it  up  out  of  sight, 
shrunk  away  from  the  little  packet  whenever  her 
hand  touched  it  in  packing  or  unpacking — but 
never  thought  of  returning  it,  no,  not  once! 
Which  of  the  two,  she  wondered,  had  been  right? 
Was  it  not  an  indirect  slight  to  her  that  Nick 
should  fling  back  the  gift  to  poor  uncomprehend 
ing  Ellie?  Or  was  it  not  rather  another  proof 
of  his  finer  moral  sensitiveness?  .  .  .  And  how 
could  one  tell,  in  their  bewildering  world? 


212        THE  GLIMPSES   OF  THE  MOON 

"It  was  not  because  we've  quarrelled;  we 
haven't  quarrelled,"  she  said  slowly,  moved  by 
the  sudden  desire  to  defend  her  privacy  and 
Nick's,  to  screen  from  every  eye  their  last  bitter 
hour  together.  "We've  simply  decided  that  our; 
experiment  was  impossible — for  two  paupers." 

"Ah,  well — of  course  we  all  felt  that  at  the 
time.  And  now  somebody  else  wants  to  marry 
you?  And  it's  your  trousseau  you  were  choosing 
that  cloak  for?"  Ellie  cried  in  incredulous  rap 
ture  ;  then  she  flung  her  arms  about  Susy's  shrink 
ing  shoulders.  "You  lucky  lucky  girl!  You 
clever  clever  darling!  But  who  on  earth  can  he 
be?" 

And  it  was  then  that  Susy,  for  the  first  time* 
had  pronounced  the  name  of  Lord  Altringham. 

"Streff— Streff?  Our  dear  old  Streff?  Yon 
mean  to  say  he  wants  to  marry  you?"  As  the 
news  took  possession  of  her  mind  Ellie  became 
dithyrambic.  "But,  my  dearest,  what  a  miracle 
of  luck !  Of  course  I  always  knew  he  was  awfully 
gone  on  you:  Fred  Davenant  used  to  say  so,  I 
remember  .  .  .  and  even  Nelson,  who's  so  stupid 
about  such  things,  noticed  it  in  Venice.  .  .  .  But 
then  it  was  so  different.  No  one  could  possibly 
have  thought  of  marrying  him  then ;  whereas  now 
of  course  every  woman  is  trying  for  him.  Oh, 
Susy,  whatever  you  do,  don't  miss  your  chance! 
You  can't  conceive  of  the  wicked  plotting  and  in 
triguing  there  will  be  to  get  him — on  all  sides, 
and  even  where  one  least  suspects  it.  You  don't 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      213 

know  what  horrors  women  will  do — and  even 
girls !"  A  shudder  ran  through  her  at  the 
thought,  and  she  caught  Susy's  wrists  in  vehe 
ment  fingers.  "But  I  can't  think,  my  dear,  why 
you  don't  announce  your  engagement  at  once. 
People  are  beginning  to  do  it,  I  assure  you — it's 
so  much  safer!" 

Susy  looked  at  her,  wondering.  Not  a  word 
of  sympathy  for  the  ruin  of  her  brief  bliss,  not 
even  a  gleam  of  curiosity  as  to  its  cause!  No 
doubt  Ellie  Vanderlyn,  like  all  Susy's  other 
friends,  had  long  since  "discounted"  the  brevity 
of  her  dream,  and  perhaps  planned  a  sequel  to  it 
before  she  herself  had  seen  the  glory  fading.  She 
and  Nick  had  spent  the  greater  part  of  their  few 
weeks  together  under  Ellie  Vanderlyn 's  roof;  but 
to  Ellie,  obviously,  the  fact  meant  no  more  than 
her  own  escapade,  at  the  same  moment,  with 
young  Davenant's  supplanter — the  "bounder" 
whom  Strefford  had  never  named.  Her  one 
thought  for  her  friend  was  that  Susy  should  at 
last  secure  her  prize — her  incredible  prize.  And 
therein  at  any  rate  Ellie  showed  the  kind  of  cold 
disinterestedness  that  raised  her  above  the  smil 
ing  perfidy  of  the  majority  of  her  kind.  At  least 
her  advice  was  sincere ;  and  perhaps  it  was  wise. 
Why  should  Susy  not  let  every  one  know  that  she 
meant  to  marry  Strefford  as  soon  as  the  "form 
alities"  were  fulfilled? 

She  did  not  immediately  answer  Mrs.  Vander 
lyn  's  question;  and  the  latter,  repeating  it,  added 


214      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

impatiently:  "I  don't  understand  you;  if  Nick 
agrees — " 

"Oh,  he  agrees,"  said  Susy. 

"Then  what  more  do  you  want?  Oh,  Susy,  if 
you'd  only  follow  my  example!" 

"Your  example?"  Susy  paused,  weighed  the 
word,  was  struck  by  something  embarrassed,  arch 
yet  half -apologetic  in  her  friend's  expression. 
"Your  example?"  sEe  repeated.  "Why,  Ellie, 
what  on  earth  do  you  mean?  Not  that  you're  go 
ing  to  part  from  poor  Nelson?" 

Mrs.  Vanderlyn  met  her  reproachful  gaze  with' 
a  crystalline  glance.  "I  don't  want  to,  heaven 
knows — poor  dear  Nelson !  I  assure  you  I  simply 
hate  it.  He's  always  such  an  angel  to  Clarissa 
.  .  .  and  then  we  're  used  to  each  other.  But  what 
in  the  world  am  I  to  do?  Algie's  so  rich,  so  ap 
pallingly  rich,  that  I  have  to  be  perpetually  on 
the  watch  to  keep  other  women  away  from  him — 
and  it's  too  exhausting.  ..." 

"Algie?" 

Mrs.  Vanderlyn 's  lovely  eyebrows  rose. 
"Algie:  Algie  Bopkheimer.  Didn't  you  know? 
I  think  he  said  you've  dined  with  his  parents. 
Nobody  else  in  the  world  is  as  rich  as  the  Bock- 
heimers;  and  Algie's  their  only  child.  Yes,  it 
was  with  him  .  .  .  with  him  I  was  so  dreadfully 
happy  last  spring  .  .  .  and  now  I'm  in  mortal 
terror  of  losing  him.  And  I  do  assure  you  there's 
no  other  way  of  keeping  them,  when  they're  as 
hideously  rich  as  that!" 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      215 

Susy  rose  to  her  feet.  A  little  shudder  ran  over 
her.  She  remembered,  now,  having  seen  Algie 
Bockheimer  at  one  of  his  parents'  first  entertain 
ments,  in  their  newly-inaugurated  marble  halls  in 
Fifth  Avenue.  She  recalled  his  too  faultless 
clothes  and  his  small  glossy  furtive  countenance. 
She  looked  at  Ellie  Vanderlyn  with  sudden  scorn. 

"I  think  you're  abominable,"  she  exclaimed. 

The  other's  perfect  little  face  collapsed. 
* '  A-bo-mi-nable  ?  A-bo-mi-nable  ?  Susy ! ' ' 

"Yes  .  .  .  with  Nelson  .  .  .  and  Clarissa  .  .  . 
and  your  past  together  .  .  .  and  all  the  money 
you  can  possibly  want  .  .  .  and  that  man! 
Abominable. ' ' 

Ellie  stood  up  trembling:  she  was  not  used  to 
scenes,  and  they  disarranged  her  thoughts  as 
much  as  her  complexion. 

"You're  very  cruel,  Susy — so  cruel  and  dread 
ful  that  I  hardly  know  how  to  answer  you,"  she 
stammered.  "But  you  simply  don't  know  what 
you're  talking  about.  As  if  anybody  ever  had  all 
the  money  they  wanted!"  She  wiped  her  dark- 
rimmed  eyes  with  a  cautious  handkerchief, 
glanced  at  herself  in  the  mirror,  and  added  mag 
nanimously:  "But  I  shall  try  to  forget  what 
you've  said." 


XIX 

JUST  such  a  revolt  as  she  had  felt  as  a  girl, 
such  a  disgusted  recoil  from  the  standards 
and  ideals  of  everybody  about  her  as  had  flung 
her  into  her  mad  marriage  with  Nick,  now  flamed 
in  Susy  Lansing's  bosom. 

How  could  she  ever  go  back  into  that  world 
again?  How  echo  its  appraisals  of  life  and  bow 
down  to  its  judgments?  Alas,  it  was  only  by 
marrying  according  to  its  standards  that  she 
could  escape  such  subjection.  Perhaps  the  same 
thought  had  actuated  Nick :  perhaps  he  had  under 
stood  sooner  than  she  that  to  attain  moral  free 
dom,  they  must  both  be  above  material  cares. 
Perhaps.  .  . 

Her  talk  with  Ellie  Vanderlyn  had  left  Susy  so 
oppressed  and  humiliated  that  she  almost  shrank 
from  her  meeting  with  Altringham  the  next  day. 
She  knew  that  he  was  coming  to  Paris  for  his 
final  answer ;  he  would  wait  as  long  as  was  neces 
sary  if  only  she  would  consent  to  take  immediate 
steps  for  a  divorce.  She  was  staying  at  a  modest 
hotel  in  the  Faubourg  St.  Germain,  and  had  once 
more  refused  his  suggestion  that  they  should 
lunch  at  the  Nouveau  Luxe,  or  at  some  fashion 
able  restaurant  of  the  Boulevards.  As  before, 

216 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      217 

she  insisted  on  going  to  an  out-of-the-way  place 
near  the  Luxembourg,  where  the  prices  were  mod 
erate  enough  for  her  own  purse. 

"I  can't  understand,"  Strefiford  objected,  as 
they  turned  from  her  hotel  door  toward  this  ob 
scure  retreat,  "why  you  insist  on  giving  me  bad 
food,  and  depriving  me  of  the  satisfaction  of  being 
seen  with  you.  Why  must  we  be  so  dreadfully 
clandestine?  Don't  people  know  by  this  time  that 
we're  to  be  married?" 

Susy  winced  a  little :  she  wondered  if  the  word 
would  always  sound  so  unnatural  on  his  lips. 

"No,"  she  said,  with  a  laugh,  "they  simply 
think,  for  the  present,  that  you're  giving  me 
pearls  and  chinchilla  cloaks." 

He  wrinkled  his  brows  good-humouredly. 
"Well,  so  I  would,  with  joy — at  this  particular 
minute.  Don't  you  think  perhaps  you'd  better 
take  advantage  of  it?  I  don't  wish  to  insist — but 
I  foresee  that  I'm  much  too  rich  not  to  become 
stingy." 

She  gave  a  slight  shrug.  "At  present  there's 
nothing  I  loathe  more  than  pearls  and  chinchilla 
...  or  anything  else  in  the  world  that's  expen 
sive  and  enviable.  ..." 

Suddenly  she  broke  off,  colouring  with  the  con 
sciousness  that  she  had  said  exactly  the  kind  of 
thing  that  all  the  women  who  were  trying  for  him 
(except  the  very  cleverest)  would  be  sure  to  say; 
and  that  he  would  certainly  suspect  her  of  at 
tempting  the  conventional  comedy  of  disinter- 


218      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

estedness,  than  which  nothing  was  less  likely  to 
deceive  or  to  flatter  him. 

His  twinkling  eyes  played  curiously  over  her 
face,  and  she  went  on,  meeting  them  with  a  smile : 
"But  don't  imagine,  all  the  same,  that  if  I  should 
.  .  .  decide  ...  it  would  be  altogether  for  your 
loeaux  yeux.  .  .  ." 

He  laughed,  she  thought,  rather  drily.  "No," 
he  said,  "I  don't  suppose  that's  ever  likely  to 
happen  to  me  again." 

"Oh,  Streff — "  she  faltered  with  compunction. 
It  was  odd — once  upon  a  time  she  had  known  ex 
actly  what  to  say  to  the  man  of  the  moment,  who 
ever  he  was,  and  whatever  kind  of  talk  he  re 
quired;  she  had  even,  in  the  difficult  days  before 
her  marriage,  reeled  off  glibly  enough  the  sort  of 
lime-light  sentimentality  that  plunged  poor  Fred 
Gillow  into  such  speechless  beatitude.  But  since 
then  she  had  spoken  the  language  of  real  love, 
looked  with  its  eyes,  embraced  with  its  hands; 
and  now  the  other  trumpery  art  had  failed  her, 
and  she  was  conscious  of  bungling  and  groping 
like  a  beginner  under  Strefford's  ironic  scrutiny. 

They  had  reached  their  obscure  destination 
and  he  opened  the  door  and  glanced  in. 

"It's  jammed — not  a  table.  And  stifling! 
Where  shall  we  go?  Perhaps  they  could  give  us 
a  room  to  ourselves — "  he  suggested. 

She  assented,  and  they  were  led  up  a  cork-screw 
staircase  to  a  squat-ceilinged  closet  lit  by  the 
arched  top  of  a  high  window,  the  lower  panes  of 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      219 

•which  served  for  the  floor  below.  Strefford 
opened  the  window,  and  Susy,  throwing  her  cloak 
on  the  divan,  leaned  on  the  balcony  while  he  or 
dered  luncheon. 

On  the  whole  she  was  glad  they  were  to  be  alone. 
Just  because  she  felt  so  sure  of  Strefford  it 
seemed  ungenerous  to  keep  him  longer  in  sus 
pense.  The  moment  had  come  when  they  must 
have  a  decisive  talk,  and  in  the  crowded  rooms 
below  it  would  have  been  impossible. 

Strefford,  when  the  waiter  had  brought  the 
first  course  and  left  them  to  themselves,  made  no 
effort  to  revert  to  personal  matters.  He  turned 
instead  to  the  topic  always  most  congenial  to  him : 
the  humours  and  ironies  of  the  human  comedy,  as 
presented  by  his  own  particular  group.  His  ma 
licious  commentary  on  life  had  always  amused 
Susy  because  of  the  shrewd  flashes  of  philosophy 
he  shed  on  the  social  antics  they  had  so  often 
watched  together.  He  was  in  fact  the  one  person 
she  knew  (excepting  Nick)  who  was  in  the  show 
and  yet  outside  of  it;  and  she  was  surprised,  as 
the  talk  proceeded,  to  find  herself  so  little  inter 
ested  in  his  scraps  of  gossip,  and  so  little  amused 
by  his  comments  on  them. 

With  an  inward  shrug  of  discouragement  she 
said  to  herself  that  probably  nothing  would  eyer 
really  amuse  her  again ;  then,  as  she  listened,  she 
began  to  understand  that  her  disappointment 
arose  from  the  fact  that  Strefford,  in  reality, 
could  not  live  without  these  people  whom  he  saw 


220      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

through  and  satirized,  and  that  the  rather  com 
monplace  scandals  he  narrated  interested  him  as 
much  as  his  own  racy  considerations  on  them; 
and  she  was  filled  with  terror  at  the  thought  that 
the  inmost  core  of  the  richly-decorated  life  of  the 
Countess  of  Altringham  would  be  just  as  poor 
and  low-ceilinged  a  place  as  the  little  room  in 
which  he  and  she  now  sat,  elbow  to  elbow  yet  so 
unapproachably  apart. 

If  Strefford  could  not  live  without  these  people, 
neither  could  she  and  Nick;  but  for  reasons  how 
different!  And  if  his  opportunities  had  been 
theirs,  what  a  world  they  would  have  created  for 
themselves !  Such  imaginings  were  vain,  and  she 
shTank  back  from  them  into  the  present.  After 
all,  as  Lady  Altringham  she  would  have  the  power 
to  create  that  world  which  she  and  Nick  had 
dreamed  .  .  .  only  she  must  create  it  alone.  Well, 
that  was  probably  the  law  of  things.  All  human 
happiness  was  thus  conditioned  and  circum 
scribed,  and  hers,  no  doubt,  must  always  be  of  the 
lonely  kind,  since  material  things  did  not  suffice 
for  it,  even  though  it  depended  on  them  as  Grace 
Fulmer's,  for  instance,  never  had.  Yet  even 
Grace  Fulmer  had  succumbed  to  Ursula's  offer, 
and  had  arrived  at  Euan  the  day  before  Susy  left, 
instead  of  going  to  Spain  with  her  husband  and 
Violet  Melrose.  But  then  Grace  was  making  the 
sacrifice  for  her  children,  and  somehow  one  had 
the  feeling  that  in  giving  up  her  liberty  she  was 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON  221 

not  surrendering  a  tittle  of  herself.  All  the  dif 
ference  was  there.  .  .  . 

"How  I  do  bore  you!"  Susy  heard  Strefford 
exclaim.  She  became  aware  that  she  had  not  been 
listening:  stray  echoes  of  names  of  places  and 
people — Violet  Melrose,  Ursula,  Prince  Altineri, 
others  of  their  group  and  persuasion — had  vainly 
knocked  at  her  barricaded  brain;  what  had  he 
been  telling  her  about  them?  She  turned  to  him 
and  their  eyes  met;  his  were  full  of  a  melan 
choly  irony. 

"Susy,  old  girl,  what's  wrong?" 

She  pulled  herself  together.  "I  was  thinking, 
Streff,  just  now — when  I  said  I  hated  the  very 
sound  of  pearls  and  chinchilla — how  impossible  it 
was  that  you  should  believe  me;  in  fact,  what  a 
blunder  I'd  made  in  saying  it." 

He  smiled.  "Because  it  was  what  so  many 
other  women  might  be  likely  to  say — so  awfully 
unoriginal,  in  fact?" 

She  laughed  for  sheer  joy  at  his  insight.  "It's 
going  to  be  easier  than  I  imagined,"  she  thought. 
Aloud  she  rejoined:  "Oh,  Streff — how  you're  al 
ways  going  to  find  me  out !  Where  on  earth  shall 
I  ever  hide  from  you?" 

"Where?"  He  echoed  her  laugh,  laying  his 
hand  lightly  on  hers.  "In  my  heart,  I'm  afraid." 

In  spite  of  the  laugh  his  accent  shook  her: 
something  about  it  took  all  the  mockery  from  his 
retort,  checked  on  her  lips  the :  "What?  A  valen 
tine!"  and  made  her  suddenly  feel  that,  if  he  were 


222      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

afraid,  so  was  she.  Yet  she  was  touched  also, 
and  wondered  half  exultingly  if  any  other  woman 
had  ever  caught  that  particular  deep  inflexion  of 
his  shrill  voice.  She  had  never  liked  him  as  much 
as  at  that  moment;  and  she  said  to  herself,  with 
an  odd  sense  of  detachment,  as  if  she  had  been 
rather  breathlessly  observing  the  vacillations  of 
someone  whom  she  longed  to  persuade  but  dared 
not:  "Now — now,  if  he  speaks,  I  shall  say  yes!" 

He  did  not  speak;  but  abruptly,  and  as  start- 
lingly  to  her  as  if  she  had  just  dropped  from  a 
sphere  whose  inhabitants  had  other  methods  of 
expressing  their  sympathy,  he  slipped  his  arm 
around  her  and  bent  his  keen  ugly  melting  face 
to  hers.  .  .  . 

It  was  the  lightest  touch — in  an  instant  she  was 
free  again.  But  something  within  her  gasped  and 
resisted  long  after  his  arm  and  his  lips  were  gone, 
and  he  was  proceeding,  with  a  too-studied  ease, 
to  light  a  cigarette  and  sweeten  his  coffee. 

He  had  kissed  her.  .  .  .  Well,  naturally:  why 
not?  It  was  not  the  first  time  she  had  been  kissed. 
It  was  true  that  one  didn't  habitually  associate 
Streff  with  such  demonstrations ;  but  she  had  not 
that  excuse  for  surprise,  for  even  in  Venice  she 
had  begun  to  notice  that  he  looked  at  her  differ 
ently,  and  avoided  her  hand  when  he  used  to  seek 
it. 

No — she  ought  not  to  have  been  surprised;  nor 
ought  a  kiss  to  have  been  so  disturbing.  Such  in 
cidents  had  punctuated  the  career  of  Susy 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      223 

Branch:  there  had  been,  in  particular,  in  far-off 
discarded  times,  Fred  Gillow's  large  but  artless 
embraces.  Well — nothing  of  that  kind  had 
seemed  of  any  more  account  than  the  flick  of  a 
leaf  in  a  woodland  walk.  It  had  all  been  merely 
epidermal,  ephemeral,  part  of  the  trivial  accepted 
"business"  of  the  social  comedy.  But  this  kiss 
of  Strefford's  was  what  Nick's  had  been,  under 
the  New  Hampshire  pines,  on  the  day  that  had 
decided  their  fate.  It  was  a  kiss  with  a  future 
in  it :  like  a  ring  slipped  upon  her  soul.  And  now, 
in  the  dreadful  pause  that  followed — while  Stref- 
ford  fidgeted  with  his  cigarette-case  and  rattled 
the  spoon  in  his  cup — Susy  remembered  what  she 
had  seen  through  the  circle  of  Nick's  kiss:  that 
blue  illimitable  distance  which  was  at  once  the 
landscape  at  their  feet  and  the  future  in  their 
souls.  .  .  . 

Perhaps  that  was  what  Strefford's  sharply 
narrowed  eyes  were  seeing  now,  that  same  illimit 
able  distance  that  she  had  lost  forever — perhaps 
he  was  saying  to  himself,  as  she  had  said  to  her 
self  when  her  lips  left  Nick's :  "Each  tune  we  kiss 
we  shall  see  it  all  again.  ..."  Whereas  all  she 
herself  had  felt  was  the  gasping  recoil  from  Stref 
ford's  touch,  and  an  intenser  vision  of  the  sordid 
room  in  which  he  and  she  sat,  and  of  their  two 
selves,  more  distant  from  each  other  than  if 
their  embrace  had  been  a  sudden  thrusting 
apart.  .  .  . 

The  moment  prolonged  itself,   and  they   sat 


numb.  How  long  had  it  lasted?  How  long  ago 
was  it  that  she  had  thought:  "It's  going  to  be 
easier  than  I  imagined"!  Suddenly  she  felt 
Strefford's  queer  smile  upon  her,  and  saw  in 
his  eyes  a  look,  not  of  reproach  or  disappoint 
ment,  but  of  deep  and  anxious  comprehension. 
Instead  of  being  angry  or  hurt,  he  had  seen,  he 
had  understood,  he  was  sorry  for  her ! 

Impulsively  she  slipped  her  hand  into  his,  and 
they  sat  silent  for  another  moment.  Then  he 
stood  up  and  took  her  cloak  from  the  divan. 
"Shall  we  go  now?  IVe  got  cards  for  the  private 
view  of  the  Eeynolds  exhibition  at  the  Petit 
Palais.  There  are  some  portraits  from  Altring- 
ham.  It  might  amuse  you." 

In  the  taxi  she  had  time,  through  their  light 
rattle  of  talk,  to  readjust  herself  and  drop  back 
into  her  usual  feeling  of  friendly  ease  with  him. 
He  had  been  extraordinarily  considerate,  for  any 
one  who  always  so  undisguisedly  sought  his  own 
satisfaction  above  all  things ;  and  if  his  consider- 
ateness  were  just  an  indirect  way  of  seeking  that 
satisfaction  now,  well,  that  proved  how  much  he 
cared  for  her,  how  necessary  to  his  happiness  she 
had  become.  The  sense  of  power  was  undeniably 
pleasant;  pleasanter  still  was  the  feeling  that 
someone  really  needed  her,  that  the  happiness  of 
the  man  at  her  side  depended  on  her  yes  or  no. 
She  abandoned  herself  to  the  feeling,  forgetting 
the  abysmal  interval  of  his  caress,  or  at  least  say 
ing  to  herself  that  in  time  she  would  forget  it, 


that  really  there  was  nothing  to  make  a  fuss  about 
in  being  kissed  by  anyone  she  liked  as  much  as 
Streff.  .  .  . 

She  had  guessed  at  once  why  he  was  taking  her 
to  see  the  Reynoldses.  Fashionable  and  artistic 
Paris  had  recently  discovered  English  eighteenth 
century  art,  The  principal  collections  of  England 
had  yielded  up  their  best  examples  of  the  great 
portrait  painter 's  work,  and  the  private  view  at 
the  Petit  Palais  was  to  be  the  social  event  of  the 
afternoon.  Everybody — Streff  ord's  everybody 
and  Susy's — was  sure  to  be  there;  and  these,  as 
she  knew,  were  the  occasions  that  revived  Stref- 
f  ord  's  intermittent  interest  in  art.  He  really  liked 
picture  shows  as  much  as  the  races,  if  one  could 
be  sure  of  seeing  as  many  people  there.  With 
Nick  how  different  it  would  have  been!  Nick 
hated  openings  and  varnishing  days,  and  worldly 
aesthetics  in  general ;  he  would  have  waited  till  the 
tide  of  fashion  had  ebbed,  and  slipped  off  with 
Susy  to  see  the  pictures  some  morning  when  they 
were  sure  to  have  the  place  to  themselves. 

But  Susy  divined  that  there  was  another  reason 
for  Streff  ord 's  suggestion.  She  had  never  yet 
shown  herself  with  him  publicly,  among  their  own 
group  of  people :  now  he  had  determined  that  she 
should  do  so,  and  she  knew  why.  She  had 
humbled  his  pride;  he  had  understood,  and  for 
given  her.  But  she  still  continued  to  treat  him 
as  she  had  always  treated  the  Strefford  of  old, 
Charlie  Strefford,  dear  old  negligible  impecuni- 


226      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ous  Streff;  and  he  wanted  to  show  her,  ever  so 
casually  and  adroitly,  that  the  man  who  had  asked 
her  to  marry  him  was  no  longer  Strefford,  but 
Lord  Altringham. 

At  the  very  threshold,  his  Ambassador's  greet 
ing  marked  the  difference :  it  was  followed,  wher 
ever  they  turned,  by  ejaculations  of  welcome  from 
the  rulers  of  the  world  they  moved  in.  Every 
body  rich  enough  or  titled  enough,  or  clever 
enough  or  stupid  enough,  to  have  forced  a  way 
into  the  social  citadel,  was  there,  waving  and  flag- 
flying  from  the  battlements;  and  to  all  of  them 
Lord  Altringham  had  become  a  marked  figure. 
During  their  slow  progress  through  the  dense 
mass  of  important  people  who  made  the  approach 
to  the  pictures  so  well  worth  fighting  for,  he  never 
left  Susy's  side,  or  failed  to  make  her  feel  herself 
a  part  of  his  triumphal  advance.  She  heard  her 
name  mentioned:  " Lansing — a  Mrs.  Lansing — an 
American  .  .  .  Susy  Lansing?  Yes,  of  course.  . . . 
You  remember  her?  At  Newport?  At  St. 
Moritz?  Exactly.  .  .  .  Divorced  already?  They 
say  so  ...  Susy  darling!  I'd  no  idea  you  were 
here  .  .  .  and  Lord  Altringham!  You've  forgot 
ten  me,  I  know,  Lord  Altringham.  .  .  .  Yes,  last 
year,  in  Cairo  ...  or  at  Newport  ...  or  in  Scot 
land  .  .  Susy,  dearest,  when  will  you  bring  Lord 
Altringham  to  dine?  Any  night  that  you  and  he 
are  free  I'll  arrange  to  be.  .  .  ." 

''You  and  he":  they  were  "you  and  he"  al 
ready  ! 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      227 

"Ah,  there's  one  of  them — of  my  great-grand 
mothers,"  Strefford  explained,  giving  a  last  push 
that  drew  him  and  Susy  to  the  front  rank,  before 
a  tall  isolated  portrait  which,  by  sheer  majesty 
of  presentment,  sat  in  its  great  carved  golden 
frame  as  on  a  throne  above  the  other  pictures. 

Susy  read  on  the  scroll  beneath  it:  "The 
Honble  Diana  Lefanu,  fifteenth  Countess  of  Al- 
tringham" — and  heard  Strefford  say:  "Do  you 
remember?  It  hangs  where  you  noticed  the  empty 
space  above  the  mantel-piece,  in  the  Vandyke 
room.  They  say  Reynolds  stipulated  that  it 
should  be  put  with  the  Vandykes. ' y 

She  had  never  before  heard  him  speak  of  his 
possessions,  whether  ancestral  or  merely  ma 
terial,  in  just  that  full  and  satisfied  tone  of  voice : 
the  rich  man's  voice.  She  saw  that  he  was  already 
feeling  the  influence  of  his  surroundings,  that  he 
was  glad  the  portrait  of  a  Countess  of  Altringham 
should  occupy  the  central  place  in  the  principal 
room  of  the  exhibition,  that  the  crowd  about  it 
should  be  denser  there  than  before  any  of  the 
other  pictures,  and  that  he  should  be  standing 
there  with  Susy,  letting  her  feel,  and  letting  all 
the  people  about  them  guess,  that  the  day  she 
chose  she  could  wear  the  same  name  as  his  pic 
tured  ancestress. 

On  the  way  back  to  her  hotel,  Strefford  made 
no  farther  allusion  to  their  future;  they  chatted 
like  old  comrades  in  their  respective  corners  of 
the  taxi.  But  as  the  carriage  stopped  at  her  door 


228      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

he  said:  "I  must  go  back  to  England  the  day: 
after  to-morrow,  worse  luck!  Why  not  dine  with 
me  to-night  at  the  Nouveau  Luxe?  I've  got  to 
have  the  Ambassador  and  Lady  Ascot,  with  their 
youngest  girl  and  my  old  Dunes  aunt,  the  Dow 
ager  Duchess,  who's  over  here  hiding  from  her 
creditors ;  but  I'll  try  to  get  two  or  three  amusing 
men  to  leaven  the  lump.  We  might  go  on  to  a 
botte  afterward,  if  you're  bored.  Unless  the  danc 
ing  amuses  you  more.  ..." 

She  understood  that  he  had  decided  to  hasten 
his  departure  rather  than  linger  on  in  uncer 
tainty;  she  also  remembered  having  heard  the 
Ascots'  youngest  daughter,  Lady  Joan  Senechal, 
spoken  of  as  one  of  the  prettiest  girls  of  the  sea 
son;  and  she  recalled  the  almost  exaggerated 
warmth  of  the  Ambassador's  greeting  at  the 
private  view. 

"Of  course  I'll  come,  Streff  dear!"  she  cried, 
with  an  effort  at  gaiety  that  sounded  successful 
to  her  own  strained  ears,  and  reflected  itself  in 
the  sudden  lighting  up  of  his  face. 

She  waved  a  good-bye  from  the  step,  saying  to 
herself,  as  she  looked  after  him:  "He'll  drive  me 
home  to-night,  and  I  shall  say  'yes' ;  and  then  he'll 
kiss  me  again.  But  the  next  time  it  won't  be 
nearly  as  disagreeable." 

She  turned  into  the  hotel,  glanced  automatically 
at  the  empty  pigeon-hole  for  letters  under  her 
key-hook,  and  mounted  the  stairs  following  the 
same  train  of  images.  "Yes,  I  shall  say  'yes'  to- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      229 

night,"  she  repeated  firmly,  her  hand  on  the  door 
of  her  room.  "That  is,  unless,  they've  brought 
up  a  letter.  ..."  She  never  re-entered  the  hotel 
without  imagining  that  the  letter  she  had  not 
found  below  had  already  been  brought  up. 

Opening  the  door,  she  turned  on  the  light  and 
sprang  to  the  table  on  which  her  correspondence 
sometimes  awaited  her. 

There  was  no  letter;  but  the  morning  papers, 
still  unread,  lay  at  hand,  and  glancing  listlessly 
down  the  column  which  chronicles  the  doings  of 
society,  she  read: 

"After  an  extended  cruise  in  the  ^Egean  and 
the  Black  Sea  on  their  steam-yacht  Ibis,  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Mortimer  Hicks  and  their  daughter  are  es 
tablished  at  the  Nouveau  Luxe  in  Eome.  They 
have  lately  had  the  honour  of  entertaining  at 
dinner  the  Reigning  Prince  of  Teutoburger-Wald- 
hain  and  his  mother  the  Princess  Dowager,  with 
their  suite.  Among  those  invited  to  meet  their 
Serene  Highnesses  were  the  French  and  Spanish 
Ambassadors,  the  Duchesse  de  Vichy,  Prince  and 
Princess  Bagnidilucca,  Lady  Penelope  Pan 
tiles —  '  Susy's  eye  flew  impatiently  on  over  the 
long  list  of  titles — "and  Mr.  Nicholas  Lansing  of 
New  York,  who  has  been  cruising  with  Mr.  and 
Mrs.  Hicks  on  the  Ibis  for  the  last  few  months." 


THE  Mortimer  Hickses  were  in  Borne;  not, 
as  they  would  in  former  times  have  been, 
in  one  of  the  antiquated  hostelries  of  the  Piazza, 
di  Spagna  or  the  Porta  del  Popolo,  where  of  old 
they  had  so  gaily  defied  fever  and  nourished  them 
selves  on  local  colour ;  but  spread  out,  with  all  the 
ostentation  of  philistine  millionaires,  under  the 
piano  nobile  ceilings  of  one  of  the  high-perched 
"Palaces,"  where,  as  Mrs.  Hicks  shamelessly  de 
clared,  they  could  "rely  on  the  plumbing,"  and 
"have  the  privilege  of  over-looking  the  Queen 
Mother's  Gardens." 

It  was  that  speech,  uttered  with  beaming 
aplomb  at  a  dinner-table  surrounded  by  the  cos 
mopolitan  nobility  of  the  Eternal  City,  that  had 
suddenly  revealed  to  Lansing  the  profound  change 
in  the  Hicks  point  of  view. 

As  he  looked  back  over  the  four  monuths  since 
he  had  so  unexpectedly  joined  the  Ibis  at  Genoa, 
he  saw  that  the  change,  at  first  insidious  and  un- 
perceived,  dated  from  the  ill-fated  day  when  the 
Hickses  had  run  across  a  Eeigning  Prince  on 
his  travels. 

Hitherto  they  had  been  proof  against  such 
perils:  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hicks  had  often  de- 

230 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      231 

clared  that  the  aristocracy  of  the  intellect  was  the 
only  one  which  attracted  them.  But  in  this  case 
the  Prince  possessed  an  intellect,  in  addition  to  his 
few  square  miles  of  territory,  and  to  one  of  the 
most  beautiful  Field  Marshal's  uniforms  that  had 
ever  encased  a  royal  warrior.  The  Prince  was 
not  a  warrior,  however;  he  was  stooping,  pacific 
and  spectacled,  and  his  possession  of  the  uniform 
had  been  revealed  to  Mrs.  Hicks  only  by  the  gift 
of  a  full-length  photograph  in  a  Bond  Street 
frame,  with  Anastasius  written  slantingly  across 
its  legs.  The  Prince — and  herein  lay  the  Hickses' 
undoing — the  Prince  was  an  archaeologist:  an 
earnest  anxious  enquiring  and  scrupulous  ar 
chaeologist.  Delicate  health  (so  his  suite  hinted) 
banished  him  for  a  part  of  each  year  from  his 
cold  and  foggy  principality;  and  in  the  com 
pany  of  his  mother,  the  active  and  enthusiastic 
Dowager  Princess,  he  wandered  from  one  Medi 
terranean  shore  to  another,  now  assisting  at  the 
exhumation  of  Ptolemaic  mummies,  now  at  the 
excavation  of  Delphic  temples  or  of  North  Afri 
can  basilicas.  The  beginning  of  winter  usually 
brought  the  Prince  and  his  mother  to  Rome  or 
Nice,  unless  indeed  they  were  summoned  by 
family  duties  to  Berlin,  Vienna  or  Madrid;  for 
an  extended  connection  with  the  principal  royal 
houses  of  Europe  compelled  them,  as  the  Princess 
Mother  said,  to  be  always  burying  or  marrying 
a  cousin.  At  other  moments  they  were  seldom 
seen  in  the  glacial  atmosphere  of  courts,  prefer- 


232      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ring  to  royal  palaces  those  of  the  other,  and  more 
modern  type,  in  one  of  which  the  Hickses  were 
now  lodged. 

Yes:  the  Prince  and  his  mother  (they  gaily 
avowed  it)  revelled  in  Palace  Hotels;  and,  being 
unable  to  afford  the  luxury  of  inhabiting  them, 
they  liked,  as  often  as  possible,  to  be  invited  to 
diiie  there  by  their  friends — "or  even  to  tea,  my 
dear,"  the  Princess  laughingly  avowed,  "for  I'm 
so  awfully  fond  of  buttered  scones;  and  Anasta- 
sius  gives  me  so  little  to  eat  in  the  desert." 

The  encounter  with  these  ambulant  Highnesses 
had  been  fatal — Lansing  now  perceived  it — to 
Mrs.  Hicks 's  principles.  She  had  known  a  great 
many  archaeologists,  but  never  one  as  agreeable 
as  the  Prince,  and  above  all  never  one  who  had  left 
a  throne  to  camp  in  the  desert  and  delve  in  Libyan 
tombs.  And  it  seemed  to  her  infinitely  pathetic 
that  these  two  gifted  beings,  who  grumbled  when 
they  had  to  go  to  "marry  a  cousin"  at  the  Palace 
of  St.  James  or  of  Madrid,  and  hastened  back 
breathlessly  to  the  far-off  point  where,  metaphor 
ically  speaking,  pick-axe  and  spade  had  dropped 
from  their  royal  hands — that  these  heirs  of  the 
ages  should  be  unable  to  offer  themselves  the 
comforts  of  up-to-date  hotel  life,  and  should  enjoy 
themselves  "like  babies"  when  they  were  invited 
to  the  other  kind  of  "Palace,"  to  feast  on  but 
tered  scones  and  watch  the  tango. 

She  simply  could  not  bear  the  thought  of  their 
privations;  and  neither,  after  a  time,  could  Mr. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      233 

Hicks,  who  found  the  Prince  more  democratic 
than  anyone  he  had  ever  known  at  Apex  City,  and 
was  immensely  interested  by  the  fact  that  their 
spectacles  came  from  the  same  optician. 

But  it  was,  above  all,  the  artistic  tendencies  of 
the  Prince  and  his  mother  which  had  conquered 
the  Hickses.  There  was  fascination  in  the  thought 
that,  among  the  rabble  of  vulgar  uneducated  roy 
alties  who  overran  Europe  from  Biarritz  to  the 
Engadine,  gambling,  tangoing,  and  sponging  on 
no  less  vulgar  plebeians,  they,  the  unobtrusive 
and  self-respecting  Hickses,  should  have  had  the 
luck  to  meet  this  cultivated  pair,  who  joined  them 
in  gentle  ridicule  of  their  own  frivolous  kinsfolk, 
and  whose  tastes  were  exactly  those  of  the  eccen 
tric,  unreliable  and  sometimes  money-borrowing 
persons  who  had  hitherto  represented  the  higher 
life  to  the  Hickses. 

Now  at  last  Mrs.  Hicks  saw  the  possibility  of 
being  at  once  artistic  and  luxurious,  of  surrender 
ing  herself  to  the  joys  of  modern  plumbing  and 
yet  keeping  the  talk  on  the  highest  level.  "If  the 
poor  dear  Princess  wants  to  dine  at  the  Nouveau 
Luxe  why  shouldn't  we  give  her  that  pleasure?" 
Mrs.  Hicks  smilingly  enquired;  "and  as  for  en 
joying  her  buttered  scones  like  a  baby,  as  she  says, 
I  think  it's  the  sweetest  thing  about  her." 

Coral  Hicks  did  not  join  in  this  chorus ;  but  she 
accepted,  with  her  curious  air  of  impartiality,  the 
change  in  her  parents '  manner  of  life,  and  for  the 
first  time  (as  Nick  observed)  occupied  herself 


234      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

with  her  mother's  toilet,  with  the  result  that  Mrs. 
Hicks 's  outline  became  firmer,  her  garments 
soberer  in  hue  and  finer  in  material;  so  that, 
should  anyone  chance  to  detect  the  daughter's 
likeness  to  her  mother,  the  result  was  less  likely: 
to  be  disturbing. 

Such  precautions  were  the  more  needful — Lan 
sing  could  not  but  note — because  of  the  different 
standards  of  the  society  in  which  the  Hickses  now 
moved.  For  it  was  a  curious  fact  that  admission 
to  the  intimacy  of  the  Prince  and  his  mother — 
who  continually  declared  themselves  to  be  the 
pariahs,  the  outlaws,  the  Bohemians  among 
crowned  heads — nevertheless  involved  not  only 
living  in  Palace  Hotels  but  mixing  with  those  who 
frequented  them.  The  Prince 's  aide-de-camp — an 
agreeable  young  man  of  easy  manners — had  smil 
ingly  hinted  that  their  Serene  Highnesses,  though 
so  thoroughly  democratic  and  unceremonious, 
were  yet  accustomed  to  inspecting  in  advance  the 
names  of  the  persons  whom  their  hosts  wished  to 
invite  with  them;  and  Lansing  noticed  that  Mrs. 
Hicks 's  lists,  having  been  ''submitted,"  usually 
came  back  lengthened  by  the  addition  of  numerous 
wealthy  and  titled  guests.  Their  Highnesses 
never  struck  out  a  name ;  they  welcomed  with  en 
thusiasm  and  curiosity  the  Hickses'  oddest  and 
most  inexplicable  friends,  at  most  putting  off 
some  of  them  to  a  later  day  on  the  plea  that  it 
would  be  " cosier"  to  meet  them  on  a  more  private 
occasion;  but  they  invariably  added  to  the  list 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      235 

many  friends  of  their  own,  with  the  gracious  hint 
that  they  wished  these  latter  (though  socially  so 
well-provided  for)  to  have  the  "immense  priv 
ilege"  of  knowing  the  Hickses.  And  thus  it  hap 
pened  that  when  October  gales  necessitated  laying 
up  the  Ibis,  the  Hickses,  finding  again  in  Rome 
the  august  travellers  from  whom  they  had  parted 
the  previous  month  in  Athens,  also  found  their 
visiting-list  enlarged  by  all  that  the  capital  con 
tained  of  fashion. 

It  was  true  enough,  as  Lansing  had  not  failed 
to  note,  that  the  Princess  Mother  adored  prehis 
toric  art,  and  Eussian  music,  and  the  paintings  of 
Gauguin  and  Matisse;  but  she  also,  and  with  a 
beaming  unconsciousness  of  perspective,  adored 
large  pearls  and  powerful  motors,  caravan  tea 
and  modern  plumbing,  perfumed  cigarettes  and 
society  scandals;  and  her  son,  while  apparently 
less  sensible  to  these  forms  of  luxury,  adored  his 
mother,  and  was  charmed  to  gratify  her  inclina 
tions  without  cost  to  himself — "  Since  poor  Mam 
ma,  "  as  he  observed,  "is  so  courageous  when  we 
are  roughing  it  in  the  desert." 

The  smiling  aide-de-camp,  who  explained  these 
things  to  Lansing,  added  with  an  intenser  smile 
that  the  Prince  and  his  mother  were  under  obli 
gations,  either  social  or  cousinly,  to  most  of  the 
titled  persons  whom  they  begged  Mrs.  Hicks  to 
invite;  "and  it  seems  to  their  Serene  High 
nesses,"  he  added,  "the  most  flattering  return 


236      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

they  can  make  for  the  hospitality  of  their  friends 
to  give  them  such  an  intellectual  opportunity." 

The  dinner-table  at  which  their  Highnesses* 
friends  were  seated  on  the  evening  in  ques 
tion  represented,  numerically,  one  of  the  greatest 
intellectual  opportunities  yet  afforded  them. 
Thirty  guests  were  grouped  about  the  flower- 
wreathed  board,  from  which  Eldorada  and  Mr. 
Beck  had  been  excluded  on  the  plea  that  the  Prin 
cess  Mother  liked  cosy  parties  and  begged  her 
hosts  that  there  should  never  be  more  than  thirty 
at  table.  Such,  at  least,  was  the  reason  given  by 
Mrs.  Hicks  to  her  faithful  followers ;  but  Lansing 
had  observed  that,  of  late,  the  same  skilled  hand 
which  had  refashioned  the  Hickses'  social  circle 
usually  managed  to  exclude  from  it  the  timid  pres 
ences  of  the  two  secretaries.  Their  banishment 
was  the  more  displeasing  to  Lansing  from  the  fact 
that,  for  the  last  three  months,  he  had  filled  Mr, 
Buttles 's  place,  and  was  himself  their  salaried 
companion.  But  since  he  had  accepted  the  post, 
his  obvious  duty  was  to  fill  it  in  accordance  with 
his  employers'  requirements;  and  it  was  clear 
even  to  Eldorada  and  Mr.  Beck  that  he  had,  as 
Eldorada  ungrudgingly  said,  "Something  of  Mr. 
Buttles 's  marvellous  social  gifts." 

During  the  cruise  his  task  had  not  been  dis 
tasteful  to  him.  He  was  glad  of  any  definite 
duties,  however  trivial,  he  felt  more  independent 
as  the  Hickses'  secretary  than  as  their  pampered 
guest,  and  the  large  cheque  which  Mr.  Hicks 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      237 

handed  over  to  him  on  the  first  of  each  month 
refreshed  his  languishing  sense  of  self-respect. 

He  considered  himself  absurdly  over-paid,  but 
that  was  the  Hickses  '  affair ;  and  he  saw  nothing 
humiliating  in  being  in  the  employ  of  people  he 
liked  and  respected.  But  from  the  moment  of  the 
ill-fated  encounter  with  the  wandering  Princes, 
his  position  had  changed  as  much  as  that  of  his 
employers.  He  was  no  longer,  to  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Hicks,  a  useful  and  estimable  assistant,  on  the 
same  level  as  Eldorada  and  Mr.  Beck ;  he  had  be 
come  a  social  asset  of  unsuspected  value,  equal 
ling  Mr.  Buttles  in  his  capacity  for  dealing  with 
the  mysteries  of  foreign  etiquette,  and  surpassing 
him  in  the  art  of  personal  attraction,  Nick  Lans 
ing,  the  Hickses  found,  already  knew  most  of  the 
Princess  Mother's  rich  and  aristocratic  friends. 
Many  of  them  hailed  him  with  enthusiastic  "Old 
Nicks",  and  he  was  almost  as  familiar  as  His 
Highness 's  own  aide-de-camp  with  all  those  secret 
ramifications  of  love  and  hate  that  made  dinner- 
giving  so  much  more  of  a  science  in  Borne  than 
at  Apex  City. 

Mrs.  Hicks,  at  first,  had  hopelessly  lost  her  way 
in  this  labyrinth  of  subterranean  scandals,  rival 
ries  and  jealousies;  and  finding  Lansing's  hand 
within  reach  she  clung  to  it  with  pathetic  tenacity. 
But  if  the  young  man's  value  had  risen  in  the 
eyes  of  his  employers  it  had  deteriorated  in  his 
own.  He  was  condemned  to  play  a  part  he  had 
not  bargained  for,  and  it  seemed  to  him  more  de- 


238      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

grading  when  paid  in  bank-notes  than  if  his  retri 
bution  had  consisted  merely  in  good  dinners  and 
luxurious  lodgings.  The  first  time  the  smiling 
aide-de-camp  had  caught  his  eye  over  a  verbal  slip 
of  Mrs.  Hicks 's,  Nick  had  flushed  to  the  forehead 
and  gone  to  bed  swearing  that  he  would  chuck  his 
job  the  next  day. 

Two  months  had  passed  since  then,  and  he  was 
still  the  paid  secretary.  He  had  contrived  to  let 
the  aide-de-camp  feel  that  he  was  too  deficient  in 
humour  to  be  worth  exchanging  glances  with ;  but 
even  this  had  not  restored  his  self-respect,  and 
on  the  evening  in  question,  as  he  looked  about  the 
long  table,  he  said  to  himself  for  the  hundredth 
time  that  he  would  give  up  his  position  on  the 
morrow. 

Only — what  was  the  alternative?  The  alter 
native,  apparently,  was  Coral  Hicks.  He  glanced 
down  the  line  of  diners,  beginning  with  the  tall 
lean  countenance  of  the  Princess  Mother,  with  its 
small  inquisitive  eyes  perched  as  high  as  attic 
windows  under  a  frizzled  thatch  of  hair  and  a 
pediment  of  uncleaned  diamonds;  passed  on  to 
the  vacuous  and  overfed  or  fashionably  haggard 
masks  of  the  ladies  next  in  rank;  and  finally 
caught,  between  branching  orchids,  a  distant 
glimpse  of  Miss  Hicks. 

In  contrast  with  the  others,  he  thought,  she 
looked  surprisingly  noble.  Her  large  grave  fea 
tures  made  her  appear  like  an  old  monument  in  a 
street  of  Palace  Hotels;  and  he  marvelled  at  the 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      239 

mysterious  law  which  had  brought  this  archaic 
face  out  of  Apex  City,  and  given  to  the  oldest 
society  of  Europe  a  look  of  such  mixed  modernity. 

Lansing  perceived  that  the  aide-de-camp,  who 
was  his  neighbour,  was  also  looking  at  Miss  Hicks. 
His  expression  was  serious,  and  even  thoughtful ; 
but,  as  his  eyes  met  Lansing's  he  readjusted  his 
official  smile. 

"I  was  admiring  our  hostess's  daughter.  Her 
absence  of  jewels  is — er — an  inspiration,"  he  re 
marked  in  the  confidential  tone  which  Lansing 
had  come  to  dread. 

"Oh,  Miss  Hicks  is  full  of  inspirations,"  he  re 
turned  curtly,  and  the  aide-de-camp  bowed  with 
an  admiring  air,  as  if  inspirations  were  rarer  than 
pearls,  as  in  his  milieu  they  undoubtedly  were. 
"She  is  the  equal  of  any  situation,  I  am  sure," 
he  replied;  and  then  abandoned  the  subject  with 
one  of  his  automatic  transitions. 

After  dinner,  in  the  embrasure  of  a  drawing- 
room  window,  he  surprised  Nick  by  returning  to 
the  same  topic,  and  this  time  without  thinking  it 
needful  to  readjust  his  smile.  His  face  remained 
serious,  though  his  manner  was  studiously  in 
formal. 

"I  was  admiring,  at  dinner,  Miss  Hicks 's  in 
variable  sense  of  appropriateness.  It  must  per 
mit  her  friends  to  foresee  for  her  almost  any 
future,  however  exalted." 

Lansing  hesitated,  and  controlled  his  annoy- 


240      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ance.  Decidedly  he  wanted  to  know  what  was  in 
his  companion's  mind. 

"What  do  you  mean  by  exalted?"  he  asked, 
with  a  smile  of  faint  amusement. 

"Well — equal  to  her  marvellous  capacity  for 
shining  in  the  public  eye. ' ' 

Lansing  still  smiled.  "The  question  is,  I  sup 
pose,  whether  her  desire  to  shine  equals  her  ca 
pacity.  ' ' 

The  aide-de-camp  stared.  "You  mean,  she's 
not  ambitious  ? ' ' 

"On  the  contrary;  I  believe  her  to  be  immeas 
urably  ambitious." 

"  Immeasurably  ?"  The  aide-de-camp  seemed 
to  try  to  measure  it.  "But  not,  surely,  be 
yond — "  "Beyond  what  we  can  offer,"  his  eyes 
completed  the  sentence;  and  it  was  Lansing's  turn 
to  stare.  The  aide-de-camp  faced  the  stare. 
"Yes,"  his  eyes  concluded  in  a  flash,  while  his 
lips  let  fall:  "The  Princess  Mother  admires  her 
immensely. ' '  But  at  that  moment  a  wave  of  Mrs. 
Hicks 's  fan  drew  them  hurriedly  from  their  em 
brasure. 

"Professor  Darchivio  had  promised  to  explain 
to  us  the  difference  between  the  Sassanian  and 
Byzantine  motives  in  Carolingian  art;  but  the 
Manager  has  sent  up  word  that  the  two  new  Creole 
dancers  from  Paris  have  arrived,  and  her  Serene 
Highness  wants  to  pop  down  to  the  ball-room  and 
take  a  peep  at  them.  .  .  .  She's  sure  the  Profes 
sor  will  understand.  . ' ' 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      241 

"And  accompany  us,  of  course,"  'the  Princess 
irresistibly  added, 

Lansing's  brief  colloquy  in  the  Nouveau  Luxe 
window  had  lifted  the  scales  from  his  eyes.  In 
numerable  dim  corners  of  memory  had  been 
flooded  with  light  by  that  one  quick  glance  of  the 
aide-de-camp's:  things  he  had  heard,  hints  he  had 
let  pass,  smiles,  insinuations,  cordialities,  ru 
mours  of  the  improbability  of  the  Prince 's  found 
ing  a  family,  suggestions  as  to  the  urgent  need  of 
replenishing  the  Teutoburger  treasury.  .  .  . 

Miss  Hicks,  perforce,  had  accompanied  her  pa 
rents  and  their  princely  guests  to  the  ballroom; 
but.  as  she  did  not  dance,  and  took  little  interest 
in  the  sight  of  others  so  engaged,  she  remained 
aloof  from  the  party,  absorbed  in  an  archaeological 
discussion  with  the  baffled  but  smiling  savant  who 
was  to  have  enlightened  the  party  on  the  differ 
ence  between  Sassanian  and  Byzantine  ornament. 

Lansing,  also  aloof,  had  picked  out  a  post  from 
which  he  could  observe  the  girl:  she  wore  a  new 
look  to  him  since  he  had  seen  her  as  the  centre 
of  all  these  scattered  threads  of  intrigue.  Yes; 
decidedly  she  was  growing  handsomer ;  or  else  she 
had  learned  how  to  set  off  her  massive  lines  in 
stead  of  trying  to  disguise  them.  As  she  held  up 
her  long  eye-glass  to  glance  absently  at  the  dancers 
he  was  struck  by  the  large  beauty  of  her  arm  and 
the  careless  assurance  of  the  gesture.  There  was 
nothing  nervous  or  fussy  about  Coral  Hicks ;  and 


242      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

he  was  not  surprised  that,  plastically  at  least,  the 
Princess  Mother  had  discerned  her  possibili 
ties. 

Nick  Lansing,  all  that  night,  sat  up  and  stared 
at  his  future.  He  knew  enough  of  the  society  into 
which  the  Hickses  had  drifted  to  guess  that, 
within  a  very  short  time,  the  hint  of  the  Prince's 
aide-de-camp  would  reappear  in  the  form  of  a 
direct  proposal.  Lansing  himself  would  probably 
— as  the  one  person  in  the  Hicks  entourage  with 
whom  one  could  intelligibly  commune — be  en 
trusted  with  the  next  step  in  the  negotiations :  he 
would  be  asked,  as  the  aide-de-camp  would  have 
said,  "to  feel  the  ground."  It  was  clearly  part 
of  the  state  policy  of  Teutoburg  to  offer  Miss 
Hicks,  with  the  hand  of  its  sovereign,  an  oppor 
tunity  to  replenish  its  treasury. 

What  would  the  girl  do?  Lansing  could  not 
guess;  yet  he  dimly  felt  that  her  attitude  would 
depend  in  a  great  degree  upon  his  own.  And  he 
knew  no  more  what  his  own  was  going  to  be  than 
on  the  night,  four  months  earlier,  when  he  had 
flung  out  of  his  wife's  room  in  Venice  to  take  the 
midnight  express  for  Genoa. 

The  whole  of  his  past,  and  above  all  the  tend 
ency,  on  which  he  had  once  prided  himself,  to  live 
in  the  present  and  take  whatever  chances  it  of 
fered,  now  made  it  harder  for  him  to  act.  He  be 
gan  to  see  that  he  had  never,  even  in  the  closest 
relations  of  life,  looked  ahead  of  his  immediate 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      243 

satisfaction.  He  had  thought  it  rather  fine  to  be 
able  to  give  himself  so  intensely  to  the  fullness  of 
each  moment  instead  of  hurrying  past  it  in  pur 
suit  of  something  more,  or  something  else,  in  the 
manner  of  the  over-scrupulous  or  the  under-im 
aginative,  whom  he  had  always  grouped  together 
and  equally  pitied.  It  was  not  till  he  had  linked 
his  life  with  Susy's  that  he  had  begun  to  feel  it 
reaching  forward  into  a  future  he  longed  to  make 
sure  of,  to  fasten  upon  and  shape  to  his  own 
wants  and  purposes,  till,  by  an  imperceptible  sub 
stitution,  that  future  had  become  his  real  present, 
his  all-absorbing  moment  of  time. 

Now  the  moment  was  shattered,  and  the  power 
to  rebuild  it  failed  him.  He  had  never  before 
thought  about  putting  together  broken  bits:  he 
felt  like  a  man  whose  house  has  been  wrecked  by 
an  earthquake,  and  who,  for  lack  of  skilled  labour, 
is  called  upon  for  the  first  time  to  wield  a  trowel 
and  carry  bricks.  He  simply  did  not  know  how. 

Will-power,  he  saw,  was  not  a  thing  one  could 
suddenly  decree  oneself  to  possess.  It  must  be 
built  up  imperceptibly  and  laboriously  out  of  a 
succession  of  small  efforts  to  meet  definite  objects, 
out  of  the  facing  of  daily  difficulties  instead  of 
cleverly  eluding  them,  or  shifting  their  burden 
on  others.  The  making  of  the  substance  called 
character  was  a  process  about  as  slow  and  ardu 
ous  as  the  building  of  the  Pyramids ;  and  the  thing 
itself,  like  those  awful  edifices,  was  mainly  useful 
to  lodge  one's  descendants  in,  after  they  too  were 


244      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

dust.  Yet  the  Pyramid-instinct  was  the  one  which 
had  made  the  world,  made  man,  and  caused  his 
fugitive  joys  to  linger  like  fading  frescoes  on  im 
perishable  walls.  .  .  . 


XXI 

ON  the  drive  back  from  her  dinner  at  the 
Nouveau    Luxe,    events    had    followed   the 
course  foreseen  by  Susy. 

She  had  promised  Strefford  to  seek  legal  ad- 
rice  about  her  divorce,  and  he  had  kissed  her ;  and 
the  promise  had  been  easier  to  make  than  she  had 
expected,  the  kiss  less  difficult  to  receive. 

She  had  gone  to  the  dinner  a-quiver  with  the 
mortification  of  learning  that  her  husband  was 
still  with  the  Hickses.  Morally  sure  of  it  though 
she  had  been,  the  discovery  was  a  shock,  and  she 
measured  for  the  first  time  the  abyss  between 
fearing  and  knowing.  No  wonder  he  had  not  writ 
ten — the  modern  husband  did  not  have  to :  he  had 
only  to  leave  it  to  time  and  the  newspapers  to 
make  known  his  intentions.  Susy  could  imagine 
Nick's  saying  to  himself,  as  he  sometimes  used  to 
say  when  she  reminded  him  of  an  unanswered 
letter:  "But  there  are  lots  of  ways  of  answering 
a  letter — and  writing  doesn't  happen  to  be  mine." 

Well — he  had  done  it  in  his  way,  and  she  was 
answered.  For  a  minute,  as  she  laid  aside  the 
paper,  darkness  submerged  her,  and  she  felt  her 
self  dropping  down  into  the  bottomless  anguish 
of  her  dreadful  vigil  in  the  Palazzo  Vanderlyn. 

245 


246      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

But  she  was  weary  of  anguish :  her  healthy  body 
and  nerves  instinctively  rejected  it.  The  wave 
was  spent,  and  she  felt  herself  irresistibly  strug 
gling  back  to  light  and  life  and  youth.  He  didn't 
want  her?  Well,  she  would  try  not  to  want  him! 
There  lay  all  the  old  expedients  at  her  hand — the 
rouge  for  her  white  lips,  the  atropine  for  her 
blurred  eyes,  the  new  dress  on  her  bed,  the  thought 
of  Strefford  and  his  guests  awaiting  her,  and  of 
the  conclusions  that  the  diners  of  the  Nouveau 
Luxe  would  draw  from  seeing  them  together. 
Thank  heaven  no  one  would  say:  ''Poor  old  Susy 
— did  you  know  Nick  had  chucked  her?"  They 
would  all  say:  "Poor  old  Nick!  Yes,  I  daresay 
she  was  sorry  to  chuck  him;  but  Altringham's 
mad  to  marry  her,  and  what  could  she  do?" 

And  once  again  events  had  followed  the  course 
she  had  foreseen.  Seeing  her  at  Lord  Altring- 
ham's  table,  with  the  Ascots  and  the  old  Duchess 
of  Dunes,  the  interested  spectators  could  not  but 
regard  the  dinner  as  confirming  the  rumour  of 
her  marriage.  As  Ellie  said,  people  didn't  wait 
nowadays  to  announce  their  "engagements"  till 
the  tiresome  divorce  proceedings  were  over.  Ellie 
herself,  prodigally  pearled  and  ermined,  had 
floated  in  late  with  Algie  Bockheimer  in  her  wake, 
and  sat,  in  conspicuous  tete-a-tete,  nodding  and 
signalling  her  sympathy  to  Susy.  Approval 
beamed  from  every  eye :  it  was  awfully  exciting, 
they  all  seemed  to  say,  seeing  Susy  Lansing  pull 
it  off!  As  the  party,  after  dinner,  drifted  from 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      247 

the  restaurant  back  into  the  hall,  she  caught,  in 
the  smiles  and  hand-pressures  crowding  about 
her,  the  scarcely-repressed  hint  of  official  congrat 
ulations;  and  Violet  Melrose,  seated  in  a  corner 
with  Fuhner,  drew  her  down  with  a  wan  jade- 
circled  arm,  to  whisper  tenderly:  "It's  most  aw 
fully  clever  of  you,  darling,  not  to  be  wearing 
any  jewels." 

In  all  the  women's  eyes  she  read  the  reflected 
lustre  of  the  jewels  she  could  wear  when  she 
chose :  it  was  as  though  their  glitter  reached  her 
from  the  far-off  bank  where  they  lay  sealed  up  in 
the  Altringham  strong-box.  What  a  fool  she  had 
been  to  think  that  Strefford  would  ever  believe 
she  didn't  care  for  them! 

The  Ambassadress,  a  blank  perpendicular  per 
son,  had  been  a  shade  less  affable  than  Susy  could 
have  wished ;  but  then  there  was  Lady  Joan — and 
the  girl  was  handsome,  alarmingly  handsome — to 
account  for  that :  probably  every  one  in  the  room 
had  guessed  it.  And  the  old  Duchess  of  Dunes 
was  delightful.  She  looked  rather  like  Strefford 
in  a  wig  and  false  pearls  ( Susy  was  sure  they  were 
as  false  as  her  teeth) ;  and  her  cordiality  was  so 
demonstrative  that  the  future  bride  found  it  more 
difficult  to  account  for  than  Lady  Ascot's  coldness, 
till  she  heard  the  old  lady,  as  they  passed  into  the 
hall,  breathe  in  a  hissing  whisper  to  her  nephew : 
"Streff,  dearest,  when  you  have  a  minute's  time, 
and  can  drop  in  at  my  wretched  little  pension,  I 
know  you  can  explain  in  two  words  what  I  ought 


248      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

to  do  to  pacify  those  awful  money-lenders.  .  .  . 
And  you'll  bring  your  exquisite  American  to  see 
me,  won't  you?  .  .  .  No,  Joan  SenechaPs  too  fair 
for  my  taste.  .  .  .  Insipid.  .  .  ' 

Yes :  the  taste  of  it  all  was  again  sweet  on  her 
lips.  A  few  days  later  she  began  to  wonder  how 
the  thought  of  Strefford's  endearments  could  have 
been  so  alarming.  To  be  sure  he  was  not  lavish 
of  them ;  but  when  he  did  touch  her,  even  when  he 
kissed  her,  it  no  longer  seemed  to  matter.  An 
almost  complete  absence  of  sensation  had  merci 
fully  succeeded  to  the  first  wild  flurry  of  her 
nerves. 

And  so  it  would  be,  no  doubt,  with  everything 
else  in  her  new  life.  If  it  failed  to  provoke  any 
acute  reactions,  whether  of  pain  or  pleasure,  the 
very  absence  of  sensation  would  make  for  peace. 
And  in  the  meanwhile  she  was  tasting  what,  she 
had  begun  to  suspect,  w^as  the  maximum  of  bliss 
to  most  of  the  women  she  knew :  days  packed  with 
engagements,  the  exhilaration  of  fashionable 
crowds,  the  thrill  of  snapping  up  a  jewel  or  a 
bibelot  or  a  new  " model"  that  one's  best  friend 
wanted,  or  of  being  invited  to  some  private  show, 
or  some  exclusive  entertainment,  that  one's  best 
friend  couldn't  get  to.  There  was  nothing,  now, 
that  she  couldn't  buy,  nowhere  that  she  couldn't 
go :  she  had  only  to  choose  and  to  triumph.  And 
for  a  while  the  surface-excitement  of  her  life  gave 
her  the  illusion  of  enjoyment. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      249 

Strefford,  as  she  had  expected,  had  postponed 
his  return  to  England,  and  they  had  now  been  for 
nearly  three  weeks  together  in  their  new,  and 
virtually  avowed,  relation.  She  had  fancied  that, 
after  all,  the  easiest  part  of  it  would  be  just  the 
being  with  Strefford — the  falling  back  on  their 
old  tried  friendship  to  efface  the  sense  of  strange 
ness.  But,  though  she  had  so  soon  grown  used 
to  his  caresses,  he  himself  remained  curiously  un 
familiar:  she  was  hardly  sure,  at  times,  that  it 
was  the  old  Strefford  she  was  talking  to.  It  was 
not  that  his  point  of  view  had  changed,  but  that 
new  things  occupied  and  absorbed  him.  In  all  the 
small  sides  of  his  great  situation  he  took  an  al 
most  childish  satisfaction;  and  though  he  still 
laughed  at  both  its  privileges  and  its  obligations, 
it  was  now  with  a  jealous  laughter. 

It  amused  him  inexhaustibly,  for  instance,  to 
be  made  up  to  by  all  the  people  who  had  always 
disapproved  of  him,  and  to  unite  at  the  same  table 
persons  who  had  to  dissemble  their  annoyance  at 
being  invited  together  lest  they  should  not  be  in 
vited  at  all.  Equally  exhilarating  was  the  capri 
cious  favouring  of  the  dull  and  dowdy  on  occa 
sions  when  the  brilliant  and  disreputable  expected 
his  notice.  It  enchanted  him,  for  example,  to  ask 
the  old  Duchess  of  Dunes  and  Violet  Melrose  to 
dine  with  the  Vicar  of  Altringham,  on  his  way  to 
Switzerland  for  a  month's  holiday,  and  to  watch 
the  face  of  the  Vicar's  wife  while  the  Duchess 
narrated  her  last  difficulties  with  book-makers 


250      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

and  money-lenders,  and  Violet  proclaimed  the 
rights  of  Love  and  Genius  to  all  that  had  once 
been  supposed  to  belong  exclusively  to  Kespecta- 
bility  and  Dulness. 

Susy  had  to  confess  that  her  own  amusements 
were  hardly  of  a  higher  order;  but  then  she  put 
up  with  them  for  lack  of  better,  whereas  Stref- 
ford,  who  might  have  had  what  he  pleased,  was 
completely  satisfied  with  such  triumphs. 

Somehow,  in  spite  of  his  honours  and  his  op 
portunities,  he  seemed  to  have  shrunk.  The  old 
Strefford  had  certainly  been  a  larger  person,  and 
she  wondered  if  material  prosperity  were  always 
a  beginning  of  ossification.  Strefford  had  been 
much  more  fun  when  he  lived  by  his  wits.  Some 
times,  now,  when  he  tried  to  talk  of  politics,  or 
assert  himself  on  some  question  of  public  interest, 
she  was  startled  by  his  limitations.  Formerly, 
when  he  was  not  sure  of  his  ground,  it  had  been 
his  way  to  turn  the  difficulty  by  glib  nonsense  or 
easy  irony ;  now  he  was  actually  dull,  at  times  al 
most  pompous.  She  noticed  too,  for  the  first 
time,  that  he  did  not  always  hear  clearly  when 
several  people  were  talking  at  once,  or  when  he 
was  at  the  theatre;  and  he  developed  a  habit  of 
saying  over  and  over  again:  ''Does  so-and-so 
speak  indistinctly?  Or  am  I  getting  deaf,  I 
wonder?"  which  wore  on  her  nerves  by  its  sug 
gestion  of  a  corresponding  mental  infirmity. 

These  thoughts  did  not  always  trouble  her. 
The  current  of  idle  activity  on  which  they  were 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      251 

both  gliding  was  her  native  element  as  well  as  his ; 
and  never  had  its  tide  been  as  swift,  its  waves  as 
buoyant.  In  his  relation  to  her,  too,  he  was  full 
of  tact  and  consideration.  She  saw  that  he  still 
remembered  their  frightened  exchange  of  glances 
after  their  first  kiss;  and  the  sense  of  this  little 
hidden  spring  of  imagination  in  him  was  some 
times  enough  for  her  thirst. 

She  had  always  had  a  rather  masculine  punctu 
ality  in  keeping  her  word,  and  after  she  had 
promised  Strefford  to  take  steps  toward  a  divorce 
she  had  promptly  set  about  doing  it.  A  sudden 
reluctance  prevented  her  asking  the  advice  of 
friends  like  Ellie  Vanderlyn,  whom  she  knew  to 
be  in  the  thick  of  the  same  negotiations,  and  all 
she  could  think  of  was  to  consult  a  young  Ameri 
can  lawyer  practising  in  Paris,  with  whom  she 
felt  she  could  talk  the  more  easily  because  he  was 
not  from  New  York,  and  probably  unacquainted 
with  her  history. 

She  was  so  ignorant  of  the  procedure  in  such 
matters  that  she  was  surprised  and  relieved  at 
his  asking  few  personal  questions;  but  it  was  a 
shock  to  learn  that  a  divorce  could  not  be  ob 
tained,  either  in  New  York  or  Paris,  merely  on 
the  ground  of  desertion  or  incompatibility. 

"I  thought  nowadays  ...  if  people  preferred 
to  live  apart  ...  it  could  always  be  managed," 
she  stammered,  wondering  at  her  own  ignorance, 
after  the  many  conjugal  ruptures  she  had  assisted 
at. 


252      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

The  young  lawyer  smiled,  and  coloured  slightly. 
His  lovely  client  evidently  intimidated  him  by  her 
grace,  and  still  more  by  her  inexperience. 

"It  can  be — generally,"  he  admitted;  "and 
especially  so  if  ...  as  I  gather  is  the  case  .  .  . 
your  husband  is  equally  anxious.  ..." 

"Oh,  quite!"  she  exclaimed,  suddenly  humili 
ated  by  having  to  admit  it. 

' '  Well,  then — may  I  suggest  that,  to  bring  mat 
ters  to  a  point,  the  best  way  would  be  for  you 
to  write  to  him?" 

She  recoiled  slightly.  It  had  never  occurred  to 
her  that  the  lawyers  would  not  "manage  it"  with 
out  her  intervention. 

"Write  to  him  .  .  .  but  what  about?" 

"Well,  expressing  your  wish  ...  to  recover 
your  freedom.  .  .  .  The  rest,  I  assume,"  said  the 
young  lawyer,  "may  be  left  to  Mr.  Lansing." 

She  did  not  know  exactly  what  he  meant,  and 
was  too  much  perturbed  by  the  idea  of  having  to 
communicate  with  Nick  to  follow  any  other  train 
of  thought.  How  could  she  write  such  a  letter? 
And  yet  how  could  she  confess  to  the  lawyer  that 
she  had  not  the  courage  to  do  so?  He  would,  of 
course,  tell  her  to  go  home  and  be  reconciled.  She 
hesitated  perplexedly. 

"Wouldn't  it  be  better,"  she  suggested,  "if  the 
letter  were  to  come  from — from  your  office  ? ' ' 

He  considered  this  politely.  "On  the  whole: 
no.  If,  as  I  take  it,  an  amicable  arrangement  is 
necessary — to  secure  the  requisite  evidence — then 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      253 

a  line  from  you,  suggesting  an  interview,  seems  to 
me  more  advisable." 

"An  interview?  Is  an  interview  necessary?" 
She  was  ashamed  to  show  her  agitation  to  this 
cautiously  smiling  young  man,  who  must  wonder 
at  her  childish  lack  of  understanding;  but  the 
break  in  her  voice  was  uncontrollable. 

"Oh,  please  write  to  him — I  can't !  And  I  can't 
see  him!  Oh,  can't  you  arrange  it  for  me?"  she 
pleaded. 

She  saw  now  that  her  idea  of  a  divorce  had  been 
that  it  was  something  one  went  out — or  sent  out 
— to  buy  in  a  shop :  something  concrete  and  port 
able,  that  Strefford's  money  could  pay  for,^and 
that  it  required  no  personal  participation  to  ob 
tain.  "What  a  fool  the  lawyer  must  think  her! 
Stiffening  herself,  she  rose  from  her  seat. 

"My  husband  and  I  don't  wish  to  see  each  other 
again.  ...  I'm  sure  it  would  be  useless  .  .  .  and 
very  painful." 

"You  are  the  best  judge,  of  course.  But  in  any 
case,  a  letter  from  you,  a  friendly  letter,  seems 
wiser  .  .  .  considering  the  apparent  lack  of  evi 
dence.  ..." 

"Very  well,  then;  I'll  write,"  she  agreed,  and 
hurried  away,  scarcely  hearing  his  parting  injunc 
tion  that  she  should  take  a  copy  of  her  letter. 

That  night  she  wrote.  At  the  last  moment  it 
might  have  been  impossible,  if  at  the  theatre  little 
Breckenridge  had  not  bobbed  into  her  box.  He 
was  just  back  from  Rome,  where  he  had  dined 


254      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

with  the  Hickses  ("a  bang-up  show — they're 
really  lances — you  wouldn't  know  them!"),  and 
had  met  there  Lansing,  whom  he  reported  as  in 
tending  to  marry  Coral  "as  soon  as  things  were 
settled".  "You  were  dead  right,  weren't  you, 
Susy,"  he  snickered,  "that  night  in  Venice  last 
i summer,  when  we  all  thought  you  were  joking 
about  their  engagement?  Pity  now  you  chucked 
our  surprise  visit  to  the  Hickses,  and  sent  Streff 
up  to  drag  us  back  just  as  we  were  breaking  in ! 
You  remember?'* 

He  flung  off  the  "Streff"  airily,  in  the  old  way, 
but  with  a  tentative  side-glance  at  his  host;  and 
Lord  Altringham,  leaning  toward  Susy,  said 
coldly:  "Was  Breckenridge  speaking  about  me? 
I  didn't  catch  what  he  said.  Does  he  speak  indis 
tinctly — or  am  I  getting  deaf,  I  wonder?" 

After  that  it  seemed  comparatively  easy,  when 
Strefford  had  dropped  her  at  her  hotel,  to  go  up 
stairs  and  write.  She  dashed  off  the  date  and  her 
address,  and  then  stopped;  but  suddenly  she  re 
membered  Breckenridge 's  snicker,  and  the  words 
rushed  from  her.  "Nick  dear,  it  was  July  when 
you  left  Venice,  and  I  hare  had  no  word  from  you 
since  the  note  in  which  you  said  you  had  gone  for 
a  few  days,  and  that  I  should  hear  soon  again. 

"You  haven't  written  yet,  and  it  is  five  months 
since  you  left  me.  That  means,  I  suppose,  that 
you  want  to  take  back  your  freedom  and  give  me 
mine.  Wouldn't  it  be  kinder,  in  that  case,  to  tell 
me  so  T  It  is  worse  than  anything  to  go  on  as  we 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      255 

are  now.  I  don't  know  how  to  put  these  things — 
but  since  you  seem  unwilling  to  write  to  me  per 
haps  you  would  prefer  to  send  your  answer  to  Mr. 
Frederic  Spearman,  the  American  lawyer  here. 
His  address  is  100,  Boulevard  Haussmann.  I 
hope — " 

She  broke  off  on  the  last  word.  Hope?  "What 
did  she  hope,  either  for  him  or  for  herself? 
Wishes  for  his  welfare  would  sound  like  a  mock 
ery — and  she  would  rather  her  letter  should  seem 
bitter  than  unfeeling.  Above  all,  she  wanted  to 
get  it  done.  To  have  to  re-write  even  those  few 
lines  would  be  torture.  So  she  left  "I  hope,"  and 
simply  added:  "to  hear  before  long  what  you 
have  decided." 

She  read  it  over,  and  shivered.  Not  one  word 
of  the  past — not  one  allusion  to  that  mysterious 
interweaving  of  their  lives  which  had  enclosed 
them  one  in  the  other  like  the  flower  in  its  sheath ! 
What  place  had  such  memories  in  such  a  letter? 
She  had  the  feeling  that  she  wanted  to  hide  that 
other  Nick  away  in  her  own  bosom,  and  with  him 
the  other  Susy,  the  Susy  he  had  once  imagined 
her  to  be.  ...  Neither  of  them  seemed  concerned 
with  the  present  business. 

The  letter  done,  she  stared  at  the  sealed  envel 
ope  till  its  presence  in  the  room  became  intoler 
able,  and  she  understood  that  she  must  either  tear 
it  up  or  post  it  immediately.  She  went  down  to 
the  hall  of  the  sleeping  hotel,  and  bribed  the  night- 
porter  to  carry  the  letter  to  the  nearest  post  office, 


256      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

though  he  objected  that,  at  that  hour,  no  time 
would  be  gained.  "I  want  it  out  of  the  house," 
she  insisted:  and  waited  sternly  by  the  desk,  in 
her  dressing-gown,  till  he  had  performed  the 
errand. 

As  she  re-entered  her  room,  the  disordered 
writing-table  struck  her ;  and  she  remembered  the 
lawyer's  injunction  to  take  a  copy  of  her  letter. 
A  copy  to  be  filed  away  with  the  documents  in 
* '  Lansing  versus  Lansing ! ' *  She  burst  out  laugh 
ing  at  the  idea.  What  were  lawyers  made  of,  she 
wondered?  Didn't  the  man  guess,  by  the  mere 
look  in  her  eyes  and  the  sound  of  her  voice,  that 
she  would  never,  as  long  as  she  lived,  forget  a 
word  of  that  letter — that  night  after  night  she 
would  lie  down,  as  she  was  lying  down  to-night, 
to  stare  wide-eyed  for  hours  into  the  darkness, 
while  a  voice  in  her  brain  monotonously  ham 
mered  out:  "Nick  dear,  it  was  July  when  you  left 
me  ..."  and  so  on,  word  after  word,  down  to  the 
last  fatal  syllable? 


xxn 

TREFFORD  was  leaving  for  England. 

Once  assured  that  Susy  had  taken  the  first 
step  toward  freeing  herself,  he  frankly  regarded 
her  as  his  affianced  wife,  and  could  see  no  reason 
for  further  mystery.  She  understood  his  impa 
tience  to  have  their  plans  settled ;  it  would  protect 
him  from  the  formidable  menace  of  the  marriage 
able,  and  cause  people,  as  he  said,  to  stop  med 
dling.  Now  that  the  novelty  of  his  situation  was 
wearing  off,  his  natural  indolence  reasserted  it 
self,  and  there  was  nothing  he  dreaded  more  than 
having  to  be  on  his  guard  against  the  innumerable 
plans  that  his  well-wishers  were  perpetually  mak 
ing  for  him.  Sometimes  Susy  fancied  he  was 
marrying  her  because  to  do  so  was  to  follow  the 
line  of  least  resistance. 

* '  To  marry  me  is  the  easiest  way  of  not  marry 
ing  all  the  others,"  she  laughed,  as  he  stood  be 
fore  her  one  day  in  a  quiet  alley  of  the  Bois  de 
Boulogne,  insisting  on  the  settlement  of  various 
preliminaries.  "I  believe  I'm  only  a  protection 
to  you." 

An  odd  gleam  passed  behind  his  eyes,  and  she 
instantly  guessed  that  he  was  thinking:  "And 
what  else  am  I  to  you?" 

257 


258      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

She  changed  colour,  and  he  rejoined,  laughing 
also:  "Well,  you're  that  at  any  rate,  thank  the 
Lord!" 

She  pondered,  and  then  questioned:  "But  in 
the  interval — how  are  you  going  to  defend  your 
self  for  another  year?" 

"Ah,  you've  got  to  see  to  that;  you've  got  to 
take  a  little  house  in  London.  You've  got  to  look 
after  me,  you  know." 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  flash  back: 
"Oh,  if  that's  all  you  care — !"  But  caring  was 
exactly  the  factor  she  wanted,  as  much  as  pos 
sible,  to  keep  out  of  their  talk  and  their  thoughts. 
She  could  not  ask  him  how  much  he  cared  with 
out  laying  herself  open  to  the  same  question ;  and 
that  way  terror  lay.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  though 
Strefford  was  not  an  ardent  wooer — perhaps  from 
tact,  perhaps  from  temperament,  perhaps  merely 
from  the  long  habit  of  belittling  and  disintegrat 
ing  every  sentiment  and  every  conviction — yet  she 
knew  he  did  care  for  her  as  much  as  he  was  cap 
able  of  caring  for  anyone.  If  the  element  of 
habit  entered  largely  into  the  feeling — if  he  liked 
her,  above  all,  because  he  was  used  to  her,  knew 
her  views,  her  indulgences,  her  allowances,  knew 
he  was  never  likely  to  be  bored,  and  almost  certain 
to  be  amused,  by  her;  why,  such  ingredients, 
though  not  of  the  fieriest,  were  perhaps  those 
most  likely  to  keep  his  feeling  for  her  at  a  pleas 
ant  temperature.  She  had  had  a  taste  of  the 
tropics,  and  wanted  more  equable  weather;  but 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      259 

the  idea  of  having  to  fan  his  flame  gently  for  a 
year  was  unspeakably  depressing  to  her.  Yet  all 
this  was  precisely  what  she  could  not  say.  The 
long  period  of  probation,  during  which,  as  she 
knew,  she  would  have  to  amuse  him,  to  guard  him, 
to  hold  him,  and  to  keep  off  the  other  women,  was 
a  necessary  part  of  their  situation.  She  was  sure 
that,  as  little  Breckenridge  would  have  said,  she 
could  "pull  it  off";  but  she  did  not  want  to  think 
about  it.  What  she  would  have  preferred  would 
have  been  to  go  away — no  matter  where — and  not 
see  Strefford  again  till  they  were  married.  But 
she  dared  not  tell  him  that  either. 

"A  little  house  in  London — V    She  wondered. 

"Well,  I  suppose  you've  got  to  have  some  sort 
of  a  roof  over  your  head." 

"I  suppose  so." 

He  sat  down  beside  her.  "If  you  like  me  well 
enough  to  live  at  Altringham  some  day,  won 't  you, 
in  the  meantime,  let  me  provide  you  with  a  smaller 
and  more  convenient  establishment?" 

Still  she  hesitated.  The  alternative,  she  knew, 
would  be  to  live  on  Ursula  Gillow,  Violet  Melrose, 
or  some  other  of  her  rich  friends,  any  one  of  whom 
would  be  ready  to  lavish  the  largest  hospitality 
on  the  prospective  Lady  Altringham.  Such  an  ar 
rangement,  in  the  long  fun,  would  be  no  less  hu 
miliating  to  her  pride,  no  less  destructive  to  her 
independence,  than  Altringham 's  little  establish 
ment.  But  she  temporized.  "I  shall  go  over  to 


260      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

London  in  December,  and  stay  for  a  while  with 
various  people — then  we  can  look  about. ' ' 

"All  right;  as  you > like."  He  obviously  con 
sidered  her  hesitation  ridiculous,  but  was  too  full 
of  satisfaction  at  her  having  started  divorce  pro 
ceedings  to  be  chilled  by  her  reply. 

"And  now,  look  here,  my  dear;  couldn't  I  give 
you  some  sort  of  a  ring?" 

"A  ring?"  She  flushed  at  the  suggestion. 
"What's  the  use,  Streff,  dear?  With  all  those 
jewels  locked  away  in  London — " 

"Oh,  I  daresay  you'll  think  them  old-fashioned. 
And,  hang  it,  why  shouldn't  I  give  you  some 
thing  new?  I  ran  across  Ellie  and  Bockheimer 
yesterday,  in  the  rue  de  la  Paix,  picking  out  sap 
phires.  Do  you  like  sapphires,  or  emeralds?  Or 
just  a  diamond?  I've  seen  a  thumping  one.  .  .  . 
I  'd  like  you  to  have  it. ' ' 

Ellie  and  Bockheimer !  How  she  hated  the  con 
junction  of  the  names !  Their  case  always  seemed 
to  her  like  a  caricature  of  her  own,  and  she  felt 
an  unreasoning  resentment  against  Ellie  for  hav 
ing  selected  the  same  season  for  her  unmating  and 
re-mating. 

"I  wish  you  wouldn't  speak  of  them,  Streff  .  .  . 
as  if  they  were  like  us !  I  can  hardly  bear  to  sit 
in  the  same  room  with  Ellie  Vanderlyn." 

"Hullo?  What's  wrong?  You  mean  because 
of  her  giving  up  Clarissa  ? ' ' 

"Not  that  only.  .  .  .  You  don't  know.  ...  I 
can't  tell  you.  ..."  She  shivered  at  the  memory, 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      261 

and  rose  restlessly  from  the  bench  where  they  had 
been  sitting. 

Strefford  gave  his  careless  shrug.  "Well,  my 
dear,  you  can  hardly  expect  me  to  agree,  for  after 
all  it  was  to  Ellie  I  owed  the  luck  of  being  so  long 
alone  with  you  in  Venice.  If  she  and  Algie  hadn't 
prolonged  their  honeymoon  at  the  villa — " 

He  stopped  abruptly,  and  looked  at  Susy.  She 
was  conscious  that  every  drop  of  blood  had  left 
her  face.  She  felt  it  ebbing  away  from  her  heart, 
flowing  out  of  her  as  if  from  all  her  severed  art 
eries,  till  it  seemed  as  though  nothing  were  left 
of  life  in  her  but  one  point  of  irreducible  pain. 

"Ellie — at  your  villa?  What  do  you  mean? 
Was  it  Ellie  and  Bockheimer  who — ?" 

Strefford  still  stared.  "You  mean  to  say  you 
didn't  know?" 

"Who  came  after  Nick  and  me  ...  ?"  she 
insisted. 

"Why,  do  you  suppose  I'd  have  turned  you  out 
otherwise?  That  beastly  Bockheimer  simply 
smothered  me  with  gold.  Ah,  well,  there's  one 
good  thing:  I  shall  never  have  to  let  the  villa 
again!  I  rather  like  the  little  place  myself,  and 
I  daresay  once  in  a  while  we  might  go  there  for 
a  day  or  two.  .  .  .  Susy,  what's  the  matter?"  he 
exclaimed. 

She  returned  his  stare,  but  without  seeing  him. 
Everything  swam  and  danced  before  her  eyes. 

"Then  she  was  there  while  I  was  posting  all 
those  letters  for  her — ?" 


262      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Letters — what  letters?  What  makes  you  look 
so  frightfully  upset?" 

She  pursued  her  thought  as  if  he  had  not 
spoken.  "She  and  Algie  Bockheimer  arrived 
there  the  very  day  that  Nick  and  I  left  ? ' ' 

"I  suppose  so.  I  thought  she'd  told  you.  Ellie 
always  tells  everybody  everything.  * ' 

"She  would  have  told  me,  I  daresay — but  I 
wouldn't  let  her." 

"Well,  my  dear,  that  was  hardly  my  fault,  was 
it?  Though  I  really  don't  see — " 

But  Susy,  still  blind  to  everything  but  the  dance 
of  dizzy  sparks  before  her  eyes,  pressed  on  as  if 
she  had  not  heard  him.  * '  It  was  their  motor,  then, 
that  took  us  to  Milan !  It  was  Algie  Bockheimer 's 
motor!"  She  did  not  know  why,  but  this  seemed 
to  her  the  most  humiliating  incident  in  the  whole 
hateful  business.  She  remembered  Nick's  reluct 
ance  to  use  the  motor — she  remembered  his  looK 
when  she  had  boasted  of  her  "managing."  The 
nausea  mounted  to  her  throat. 

Strefford  burst  out  laughing.  "I  say — you  bor 
rowed  their  motor?  And  you  didn't  know  whose 
it  was?" 

"How  could  I  know?  I  persuaded  the  chauf 
feur  .  .  .  for  a  little  tip.  .  .  e  It  was  to  save  our 
railway  fares  to  Milan  .  .  .  extra  luggage  costs 
so  frightfully  in  Italy.  ..." 

"Good  old  Susy!  Well  done!  I  can  see  you 
doing  it — " 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      263 

"Oh,  how  horrible — how  horrible!"  she 
groaned. 

"Horrible?    What's  horrible?" 

"Why,  your  not  seeing  .  .  .  not  feeling  .  .  ." 
she  began  impetuously;  and  then  stopped.  How 
could  she  explain  to  him  that  what  revolted  her 
was  not  so  much  the  fact  of  his  having  given  the 
little  house,  as  soon  as  she  and  Nick  had  left  it, 
to  those  two  people  of  all  others — though  the 
vision  of  them  in  the  sweet  secret  house,  and 
under  the  plane-trees  of  the  terrace,  drew  such  a 
trail  of  slime  across  her  golden  hours  ?  No,  it  was 
not  that  from  which  she  most  recoiled,  but  from 
the  fact  that  Strefford,  living  in  luxury  in  Nelson 
Vanderlyn's  house,  should  at  the  same  time  have 
secretly  abetted  Ellie  Vanderlyn's  love-affairs, 
and  allowed  her — for  a  handsome  price — to  shel 
ter  them  under  his  own  roof.  The  reproach 
trembled  on  her  lip — but  she  remembered  her  own 
part  in  the  wretched  business,  and  the  impossibil 
ity  of  avowing  it  to  Strefford,  and  of  revealing 
to  him  that  Nick  had  left  her  for  that  very  reason. 
She  was  not  afraid  that  the  discovery  would  di 
minish  her  in  Strefford 's  eyes:  he  was  untroubled 
by  moral  problems,  and  would  laugh  away  her 
avowal,  with  a  sneer  at  Nick  in  his  new  part  of 
moralist.  But  that  was  just  what  she  could  not 
bear :  that  anyone  should  cast  a  doubt  on  the  genu 
ineness  of  Nick's  standards,  or  should  know  how 
far  below  them  she  had  fallen. 

She  remained  silent,  and  Strefford,  after  a  mo- 


264      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

merit,  drew  her  gently  down  to  the  seat  beside  him. 
"Susy,  upon  my  soul  I  don't  know  what  you're 
driving  at.  Is  it  me  you're  angry  with — or  your 
self  ?  And  what 's  it  all  about  ?  Are  you  disgusted 
because  I  let  the  villa  to  a  couple  who  weren't 
married?  But,  hang  it,  they're  the  kind  that  pay 
the  highest  price — and  I  had  to  earn  my  living 
somehow!  One  doesn't  run  across  a  bridal  pair 
every  day.  ..." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  puzzled  incredulous 
face.  Poor  Streff !  No,  it  was  not  with  him  that 
she  was  angry.  Why  should  she  be?  Even  that 
ill-advised  disclosure  had  told  her  nothing  she  had 
not  already  known  about  him.  It  had  simply  re 
vealed  to  her  once  more  the  real  point  of  view  of 
the  people  he  and  she  lived  among,  had  shown  her 
that,  in  spite  of  the  superficial  difference,  he  felt 
as  they  felt,  Judged  as  they  judged,  was  blind  as 
they  were — and  as  she  would  be  expected  to  be, 
should  she  once  again  become  one  of  them.  What 
was  the  use  of  being  placed  by  fortune  above  such 
shifts  and  compromises,  if  in  one's  heart  one  still 
condoned  them?  And  she  would  have  to — she 
would  catch  the  general  note,  grow  blunted  as 
those  other  people  were  blunted,  and  gradually 
come  to  wonder  at  her  own  revolt,  as  Strefford 
now  honestly  wondered  at  it.  She  felt  as  though 
she  were  on  the  point  of  losing  some  new-found 
treasure,  a  treasure  precious  only  to  herself,  but 
beside  which,  all  he  offered  her  was  nothing,  the 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      265 

triumph  of  her  wounded  pride  nothing,  the  se 
curity  of  her  future  nothing. 

"What  is  it,  Susy?"  he  asked,  with  the  same 
puzzled  gentleness. 

Ah,  the  loneliness  of  never  being  able  to  make 
him  understand!  She  had  felt  lonely  enough 
when  the  flaming  sword  of  Nick's  indignation  had 
shut  her  out  from  their  Paradise;  but  there  had 
been  a  cruel  bliss  in  the  pain.  Nick  had  not 
opened  her  eyes  to  new  truths,  but  had  waked  in 
her  again  something  which  had  lain  unconscious 
under  years  of  accumulated  indifference.  And 
that  re-awakened  sense  had  never  left  her  since, 
and  had  somehow  kept  her  from  utter  loneliness 
because  it  was  a  secret  shared  with  Nick,  a  gift 
she  owed  to  Nick,  and  which,  in  leaving  her,  he 
could  not  take  from  her.  It  was  almost,  she  sud 
denly  felt,  as  if  he  had  left  her  with  a  child. 

"My  dear  girl,"  Strefford  said,  with  a  resigned 
glance  at  his  watch,  "you  know  we're  dining  at 
the  Embassy.  ..." 

At  the  Embassy?  She  looked  at  him  vaguely: 
then  she  remembered.  Yes,  they  were  dining  that 
night  at  the  Ascots',  with  Strefford 's  cousin,  the 
Duke  of  Dunes,  and  his  wife,  the  handsome  irre 
proachable  young  Duchess ;  with  the  old  gambling 
Dowager  Duchess,  whom  her  son  and  daughter- 
in-law  had  come  over  from  England  to  see;  and 
with  other  English  and  French  guests  of  a  rank 
and  standing  worthy  of  the  Duneses.  Susy  knew 
that  her  inclusion  in  such  a  dinner  could  mean 


266      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

but  one  thing:  it  was  her  definite  recognition  as 
Altringham's  future  wife.  She  was  "the  little 
American"  whom  one  had  to  ask  when  one  invited 
him,  even  on  ceremonial  occasions.  The  family 
had  accepted  her;  the  Embassy  could  but  follow 
suit. 

"It's  late,  dear;  and  I've  got  to  see  someone 
on  business  first,"  Strefford  reminded  her  pa 
tiently. 

"Oh,  Streff— I  can't,  I  can't!"  The  words 
broke  from  her  without  her  knowing  what  she  was 
saying.  "I  can't  go  with  you — I  can't  go  to  the 
Embassy.  I  can't  go  on  any  longer  like  this. ..." 
She  lifted  her  eyes  to  his  in  desperate  appeal. 
"Oh,  understand — do  please  understand!"  she 
wailed,  knowing,  while  she  spoke,  the  utter  impos 
sibility  of  what  she  asked. 

Strefford 's  face  had  gradually  paled  and  hard 
ened.  From  sallow  it  turned  to  a  dusky  white, 
and  lines  of  obstinacy  deepened  between  the  ironic 
eyebrows  and  about  the  weak  amused  mouth. 

"Understand?  What  do  you  want  me  to  under 
stand?"  He  laughed.  "That  you're  trying  to 
chuck  me — already?" 

She  shrank  at  the  sneer  of  the  "already,"  but 
instantly  remembered  that  it  was  the  only  thing 
he  could  be  expected  to  say,  since  it  was  just  be 
cause  he  couldn't  understand  that  she  was  flying 
from  him. 

'  *  Oh,  Streff— if  I  knew  how  to  tell  you ! " 


267 

"It  doesn't  so  much  matter  about  the  how.  7s 
that  what  you're  trying  to  say?' ' 

Her  head  drooped,  and  she  saw  the  dead  leaves 
whirling  across  the  path  at  her  feet,  lifted  on  a 
sudden  wintry  gust. 

"The  reason,"  he  continued,  clearing  his  throat 
with  a  stiff  smile,  "is  not  quite  as  important  to  me 
as  the  fact." 

She  stood  speechless,  agonized  by  his  pain.  But 
still,  she  thought,  he  had  remembered  the  dinner 
at  the  Embassy !  The  thought  gave  her  courage  to 
go  on. 

"It  wouldn't  do,  Streff.  I'm  not  a  bit  the  kind 
of  person  to  make  you  happy." 

' '  Oh,  leave  that  to  me,  please,  won 't  you  ? ' ' 

"No,  I  can't.  Because  I  should  be  unhappy 
too." 

He  flicked  at  the  leaves  as  they  whirled  past. 
"You've  taken  a  rather  long  time  to  find  it  out." 
She  saw  that  his  new-born  sense  of  his  own  conse 
quence  was  making  him  suffer  even  more  than  his 
wounded  affection ;  and  that  again  gave  her  cour 
age. 

"If  I've  taken  long  it's  all  the  more  reason  why 
I  shouldn't  take  longer.  If  I've  made  a  mistake 
it's  you  who  would  have  suffered  from  it.  .  .  ." 

"Thanks,"  he  said,  "for  your  extreme  solici 
tude." 

She  looked  at  him  helplessly,  penetrated  by  the 
despairing  sense  of  their  inaccessibility  to  each 


268      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

other.  Then  she  remembered  that  Nick,  during 
their  last  talk  together,  had  seemed  as  inaccessible, 
and  wondered  if,  when  human  souls  try  to  get  too 
near  each  other,  they  do  not  inevitably  become 
mere  blurs  to  each  other 's  vision.  She  would  have 
liked  to  say  this  to  Streff — but  he  would  not  have 
understood  it  either.  The  sense  of  loneliness  once 
more  enveloped  her,  and  she  groped  in  vain  for  a 
word  that  should  reach  him. 

"Let  me  go  home  alone,  won't  you?"  she  ap 
pealed  to  him. 

"Alone?" 

She  nodded.    "To-morrow — to-morrow.  .  .  ." 

He  tried,  rather  valiantly,  to  smile.  '  *  Hang  to 
morrow!  Whatever  is  wrong,  it  needn't  prevent 
my  seeing  you  home."  He  glanced  toward  the 
taxi  that  awaited  them  at  the  end  of  the  deserted 
drive. 

"No,  please.  You're  in  a  hurry;  take  the  taxi. 
I  want  immensely  a  long  long  walk  by  myself  .  .  . 
through  the  streets,  with  the  lights  coming 
out.  .  .  ." 

He  laid  his  hand  on  her  arm.  "I  say,  my  dear, 
you 're  not  ill?" 

"No;  I'm  not  ill.  But  you  may  say  I  am,  to 
night  at  the  Embassy." 

He  released  her  and  drew  back.  "Oh,  very 
well, ' '  he  answered  coldly ;  and  she  understood  by 
bis  tone  that  the  knot  was  cut,  and  that  at  that 
moment  he  almost  hated  her.  She  turned  away, 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      269 

hastening  down  the  deserted  alley,  flying  from 
him,  and  knowing,  as  she  fled,  that  he  was  still 
standing  there  motionless,  staring  after  her, 
wounded,  humiliated,  uncomprehending.  It  was 
neither  her  fault  nor  his. 


xxm 

AS  she  fled  on  toward  the  lights  of  the  streets 
a  breath  of  freedom  seemed  to  blow  into  her 
face. 

Like  a  weary  load  the  accumulated  hypocrisies 
of  the  last  months  had  dropped  from  her :  she  was 
herself  again,  Nick's  Susy,  and  no  one  else's.  She 
sped  on,  staring  with  bright  bewildered  eyes  at  the 
stately  facades  of  the  La  Muette  quarter,  the  per 
spectives  of  bare  trees,  the  awakening  glitter  of 
shop-windows  holding  out  to  her  all  the  things  she 
would  never  again  be  able  to  buy.  .  .  . 

In  an  avenue  of  shops  she  paused  before  a  mil 
liner's  window,  and  said  to  herself:  "Why 
shouldn't  I  earn  my  living  by  trimming  hats?" 
She  met  work-girls  streaming  out  under  a  door 
way,  and  scattering  to  catch  trams  and  omnibuses ; 
and  she  looked  with  newly-wakened  interest  at 
their  tired  independent  faces.  "Why  shouldn't  I 
earn  my  living  as  well  as  they  do?"  she  thought. 
A  little  farther  on  she  passed  a  Sister  of  Charity 
with  softly  trotting  feet,  a  calm  anonymous 
glance,  and  hands  hidden  in  her  capacious  sleeves. 
Susy  looked  at  her  and  thought:  "Why  shouldn't 
I  be  a  Sister,  and  have  no  money  to  worry  about, 
and  trot  about  under  a  white  coif  helping  poor 
people?" 

270 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      271 

All  these  strangers  on  whom  she  smiled  in  pass 
ing,  and  glanced  back  at  enviously,  were  free  from 
the  necessities  that  enslaved  her,  and  would  not 
have  known  what  she  meant  if  she  had  told  them 
that  she  must  have  so  much  money  for  her  dresses, 
so  much  for  her  cigarettes,  so  much  for  bridge  and 
cabs  and  tips,  and  all  kinds  of  extras,  and  that  at 
that  moment  she  ought  to  be  hurrying  back  to  a 
dinner  at  the  British  Embassy,  where  her  per 
manent  right  to  such  luxuries  was  to  be  solemnly 
recognized  and  ratified. 

The  artificiality  and  unreality  of  her  life  over 
came  her  as  with  stifling  fumes.  She  stopped  at  a 
street-corner,  drawing  long  panting  breaths  as  if 
she  had  been  running  a  race.  Then,  slowly  and 
aimlessly,  she  began  to  saunter  along  a  street  of 
small  private  houses  in  damp  gardens  that  led  to 
the  Avenue  du  Bois.  She  sat  down  on  a  bench. 
Not  far  off,  the  Arc  de  Triomphe  raised  its  august 
bulk,  and  beyond  it  a  river  of  lights  streamed 
down  toward  Paris,  and  the  stir  of  the  city's 
heart-beats  troubled  the  quiet  in  her  bosom.  But 
not  for  long.  She  seemed  to  be  looking  at  it  all 
from  the  other  side  of  the  grave;  and  as  she  got 
up  and  wandered  down  the  Champs  Elysees,  half 
empty  in  the  evening  lull  between  dusk  and  din 
ner,  she  felt  as  if  the  glittering  avenue  were  really 
changed  into  the  Field  of  Shadows  from  which  it 
takes  its  name,  and  as  if  she  were  a  ghost  among 
ghosts. 

Halfway  home,  a  weakness  of  loneliness  over- 


272      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

came  her,  and  she  seated  herself  und^r  the  trees 
near  the  Bond  Point.  Lines  of  motors  and  car 
riages  were  beginning  to  animate  the  converging 
thoroughfares,  streaming  abreast,  crossing,  wind 
ing  in  and  out  of  each  other  in  a  tangle  of  hurried 
pleasure-seeking.  She  caught  the  light  on  jewels 
and  shirt-fronts  and  hard  bored  eyes  emerging 
from  dim  billows  of  fur  and  velvet.  She  seemed  to 
hear  what  the  couples  were  saying  to  each  other, 
she  pictured  the  drawing-rooms,  restaurants, 
dance-halls  they  were  hastening  to,  the  breathless 
routine  that  was  hurrying  them  along,  as  Time, 
the  old  vacuum-cleaner,  swept  them  away  with  the 
dust  of  their  carriage- wheels.  And  again  the  lone 
liness  vanished  in  a  sense  of  release.  .  .  . 

At  the  corner  of  the  Place  de  la  Concorde  she 
stopped,  recognizing  a  man  in  evening  dress  who 
was  hailing  a  taxi.  Their  eyes  met,  and  Nelson 
Vanderlyn  came  forward.  He  was  the  last  person 
she  cared  to  run  across,  and  she  shrank  back  in 
voluntarily.  What  did  he  know,  what  had  he 
guessed,  of  her  complicity  in  his  wife's  affairs? 
No  doubt  Ellie  had  blabbed  it  all  out  by  this 
time;  she  was  just  as  likely  to  confide  her  love- 
affairs  to  Nelson  as  to  anyone  else,  now  that  the 
Bockheimer  prize  was  landed. 

"Well — well — well — so  I've  caught  you  at  it! 
Glad  to  see  you,  Susy,  my  dear."  She  found  her 
hand  cordially  clasped  in  Vanderlyn 's,  and  his 
round  pink  face  bent  on  her  with  all  its  old  ur 
banity.  Did  nothing  matter,  then,  in  this  world 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      273 

she  was  fleeing  from,  did  no  one  love  or  hate  or 
remember  ? 

"No  idea  you  were  in  Paris — just  got  here  my 
self,"  Vanderlyn  continued,  visibly  delighted  at 
the  meeting.  "Look  here,  don't  suppose  you're 
out  of  a  job  this  evening  by  any  chance,  and  would 
come  and  cheer  up  a  lone  bachelor,  eh?  No?  You 
are?  Well,  that's  luck  for  once!  I  say,  where 
shall  we  go  ?  One  of  the  places  where  they  dancey 
I  suppose?  Yes,  I  twirl  the  light  fantastic  once 
in  a  while  myself.  Got  to  keep  up  with  the  times  I 
Hold  on,  taxi!  Here — I'll  drive  you  home  first, 
and  wait  while  you  jump  into  your  toggery.  Lots 
of  time. "  As  he  steered  her  toward  the  carriage 
she  noticed  that  he  had  a  gouty  limp,  and  pulled 
himself  in  after  her  with  difficulty. 

"Mayn't  I  come  as  I  am,  Nelson?  I  don't  feel 
like  dancing.  Let's  go  and  dine  in  one  of  those 
nice  smoky  little  restaurants  by  the  Place  de  la 
Bourse." 

He  seemed  surprised  but  relieved  at  the  sugges 
tion,  and  they  rolled  off  together.  In  a  corner  at 
Bauge's  they  found  a  quiet  table,  screened  from 
the  other  diners,  and  while  Vanderlyn  adjusted  his 
eyeglasses  to  study  the  carte  Susy  stole  a  long  look 
at  him.  He  was  dressed  with  even  more  than  his 
usual  formal  trimness,  and  she  detected,  in  an 
ultra-flat  wrist-watch  and  discreetly  expensive 
waistcoat  buttons,  an  attempt  at  smartness  alto 
gether  new.  His  face  had  undergone  the  same 
change:  its  familiar  look  of  worn  optimism  had 


274      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

been,  as  it  were,  done  up  to  match  his  clothes,  as 
though  a  sort  of  moral  cosmetic  had  made  him 
pinker,  shinier  and  sprightlier  without  really  re 
juvenating  him.  A  thin  veil  of  high  spirits  had 
merely  been  drawn  over  his  face,  as  the  shining 
strands  of  hair  were  skilfully  brushed  over  his 
baldness. 

"Here!  Carte  des  vins,  waiter!  What  cham 
pagne,  Susy?"  He  chose,  fastidiously,  the  best 
the  cellar  could  produce,  grumbling  a  little  at  the 
bourgeois  character  of  the  dishes.  "Capital  food 
of  its  kind,  no  doubt,  but  coarsish,  don't  you 
think?  Well,  I  don't  mind  ...  it's  rather  a  jolly 
change  from  the  Luxe  cooking.  A  new  sensation 
— I'm  all  for  new  sensations,  ain't  you,  my  dear?" 
He  re-filled  their  champagne  glasses,  flung  an  arm 
sideways  over  his  chair,  and  smiled  at  her  with  a 
foggy  benevolence. 

As  the  champagne  flowed  his  confidences  flowed 
with  it. 

"Suppose  you  know  what  I'm  here  for — this 
divorce  business?  We  wanted  to  settle  it  quietly, 
without  a  fuss,  and  of  course  Paris  is  the  best 
place  for  that  sort  of  job.  Live  and  let  live;  no 
questions  asked.  None  of  your  dirty  newspapers. 
Great  country,  this.  No  hypocrisy  .  .  .  they  un 
derstand  Life  over  here ! ' ' 

Susy  gazed  and  listened.  She  remembered  that 
people  had  thought  Nelson  would  make  a  row 
when  he  found  out.  He  had  always  been  addicted 
to  truculent  anecdotes  about  unfaithful  wives,  and 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      275 

the  very  formula  of  his  perpetual  ejaculation — 
"Caught  you  at  it,  eh?" — seemed  to  hint  at  a  con 
stant  preoccupation  with  such  ideas.  But  now  it 
was  evident  that,  as  the  saying  was,  he  had  * '  swal 
lowed  his  dose"  like  all  the  others.  No  strong 
blast  of  indignation  had  momentarily  lifted  him 
above  his  normal  stature :  he  remained  a  little  man 
among  little  men,  and  his  eagerness  to  rebuild  his 
life  with  all  the  old  smiling  optimism  reminded 
Susy  of  the  patient  industry  of  an  ant  remaking 
its  ruined  ant-heap. 

* '  Tell  you  what,  great  thing,  this  liberty !  Every 
thing 's  changed  nowadays;  why  shouldn't  mar 
riage  be  too?  A  man  can  get  out  of  a  business 
partnership  when  he  wants  to;  but  the  parsons 
want  to  keep  us  noosed  up  to  each  other  for  life 
because  we've  blundered  into  a  church  one  day  and 
said  'Yes'  before  one  of  'em.  No,  no — that's  too 
easy.  We've  got  beyond  that.  Science,  and  all 
these  new  discoveries.  ...  I  say  the  Ten  Com 
mandments  were  made  for  man,  and  not  man  for 
the  Commandments;  and  there  ain't  a  word 
against  divorce  in  'em,  anyhow!  That's  what  I 
tell  my  poor  old  mother,  who  builds  everything  on 
her  Bible.  'Find  me  the  place  where  it  says :  Thou 
shall  not  sue  for  divorce.'  It  makes  her  wild, 
poor  old  lady,  because  she  can't;  and  she  doesn't 
know  how  they  happen  to  have  left  it  out.  ...  I 
rather  think  Moses  left  it  out  because  he  knew 
more  about  human  nature  than  these  snivelling 
modern  parsons  do.  Not  that  they'll  always  bear 


276      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

investigating  either;  but  I  don't  care  about  that. 
Live  and  let  live,  eh,  Susy?  Haven't  we  all  got  a 
right  to  our  Affinities?  I  hear  you're  following 
our  example  yourself.  First-rate  idea:  I  don't 
mind  telling  you  I  saw  it  coming  on  last  summer 
at  Venice.  Caught  you  at  it,  so  to  speak!  Old 
Nelson  ain't  as  blind  as  people  think.  Here,  let's 
open  another  bottle  to  the  health  of  Streff  and 
Mrs.  Streff!" 

She  caught  the  hand  with  which  he  was  signal 
ling  to  the  sommelier.  This  flushed  and  garrulous 
Nelson  moved  her  more  poignantly  than  a  more 
heroic  figure.  "No  more  champagne,  please,  Nel 
son.  Besides,"  she  suddenly  added,  "it's  not 
true. ' ' 

He  stared.  "Not  true  that  you're  going  to 
marry  Altringham  I ' ' 

"No." 

"By  George — then  what  on  earth  did  you 
chuck  Nick  for?  Ain't  you  got  an  Affinity,  my 
dear?" 

She  laughed  and  shook  her  head. 

"Do  you  mean  to  tell  me  it's  all  Nick's  doing, 
then?" 

V"I  don't  know.  Let's  talk  of  you  instead,  Nel 
son.  I'm  glad  you're  in  such  good  spirits.  I 
rather  thought — " 

He  interrupted  her  quickly.  "Thought  I'd  cut 
up  a  rumpus — do  some  shooting?  I  know — people 
did. ' '  He  twisted  his  moustache,  evidently  proud 
of  his  reputation.  "Well,  maybe  I  did  see  red  for 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      277 

a  day  or  two — but  I'm  a  philosopher,  first  and  last. 
Before  I  went  into  banking  I'd  made  and  lost  two 
fortunes  out  West.  Well,  how  did  I  build  'em  up 
again?  Not  by  shooting  anybody — even  myself. 
By  just  buckling  to,  and  beginning  all  over  again. 
That 's  how  .  .  .  and  that 's  what  I  am  doing  now. 
Beginning  all  over  again.  .  .  ."  His  voiee 
dropped  from  boastfulness  to  a  note  of  wistful 
melancholy,  the  look  of  strained  jauntiness  fell 
from  his  face  like  a  mask,  and  for  an  instant  she 
saw  the  real  man,  old,  ruined,  lonely.  Yes,  that 
was  it :  he  was  lonely,  desperately  lonely,  founder 
ing  in  such  deep  seas  of  solitude  that  any  pres 
ence  out  of  the  past  was  like  a  spar  to  which  he 
clung.  Whatever  he  knew  or  guessed  of  the  part 
she  had  played  in  his  disaster,  it  was  not  callous 
ness  that  had  made  him  greet  her  with  such  for 
giving  warmth,  but  the  same  sense  of  smallness, 
insignificance  and  isolation  which  perpetually 
hung  like  a  cold  fog  on  her  own  horizon.  Sud 
denly  she  too  felt  old — old  and  unspeakably  tired. 

"It's  been  nice  seeing  you,  Nelson.  But  now  I 
must  be  getting  home." 

He  offered  no  objection,  but  asked  for  the  bill, 
resumed  his  jaunty  air  while  he  scattered  largesse 
among  the  waiters,  and  sauntered  out  behind  her 
after  calling  for  a  taxi. 

They  drove  off  in  silence.  Susy  was  thinking: 
"And  Clarissa?"  but  dared  not  ask.  Vanderlyn 
lit  a  cigarette,  hummed  a  dance-tune,  and  stared 


278      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

out  of  the  window.     Suddenly  she  felt  his  hand 
on  hers. 

1 1  Susy — do  you  ever  see  her  ? ' ' 

"See— Ellie?" 

He  nodded,  without  turning  toward  her. 

"Not  often  .  .  .  sometimes.  ..." 

"If  you  do,  for  God's  sake  tell  her  I'm  happy 
.  .  .  happy  as  a  king  .  .  .  tell  her  you  could  see 
for  yourself  that  I  was.  ..."  His  voice  broke  in 
a  little  gasp.  "I  .  .  .  I'll  be  damned  if  ...  if 
she  shall  ever  be  unhappy  about  me  ...  if  I  can 
help  it.  .  .  ."  The  cigarette  dropped  from  his 
fingers,  and  with  a  sob  he  covered  his  face. 

"Oh,  poor  Nelson  —  poor  Nelson,"  Susy 
breathed.  While  their  cab  rattled  across  the  Place 
du  Carrousel,  and  over  the  bridge,  he  continued  to 
sit  beside  her  with  hidden  face.  At  last  he  pulled 
out  a  scented  handkerchief,  rubbed  his  eyes  with 
it,  and  groped  for  another  cigarette. 

"I'm  all  right!  Tell  her  that,  will  you,  Susy? 
There  are  some  of  our  old  times  I  don't  suppose  I 
shall  ever  forget ;  but  they  make  me  feel  kindly  to 
her,  and  not  angry.  I  didn  't  know  it  would  be  so, 
beforehand — but  it  is  ...  And  now  the  thing's 
settled  I'm  as  right  as  a  trivet,  and  you  can  tell 
her  so.  ...  Look  here,  Susy  .  .  . "  he  caught  her 
by  the  arm  as  the  taxi  drew  up  at  her  hotel.  .  .  . 
"Tell  her  I  understand,  will  you!  I'd  rather  like 
her  to  know  that.  ..." 

"I'll  tell  her,  Nelson,"  she  promised;  and 
climbed  the  stairs  alone  to  her  dreary  room. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      279 

Susy's  one  fear  was  that  Strefford,  when  he  re 
turned  the  next  day,  should  treat  their  talk  of  the 
previous  evening  as  a  fit  of  "  nerves "  to  be  jested 
away.  He  might,  indeed,  resent  her  behaviour  too 
deeply  to  seek  to  see  her  at  once;  but  his  easy 
going  modern  attitude  toward  conduct  and  convic 
tions  made  that  improbable.  She  had  an  idea  that 
what  he  had  most  minded  was  her  dropping  so  un 
ceremoniously  out  of  the  Embassy  Dinner. 

But,  after  all,  why  should  she  see  him  again? 
She  had  had  enough  of  explanations  during  the 
last  months  to  have  learned  how  seldom  they  ex 
plain  anything.  If  the  other  person  did  not  under 
stand  at  the  first  word,  at  the  first  glance  even, 
subsequent  elucidations  served  only  to  deepen  the 
obscurity.  And  she  wanted  above  all — and  es 
pecially  since  her  hour  with  Nelson  Vanderlyn — 
to  keep  herself  free,  aloof,  to  retain  her  hold  on 
her  precariously  recovered  self.  She  sat  down 
and  wrote  to  Strefford — and  the  letter  was  only  a 
little  less  painful  to  write  than  the  one  she  had 
despatched  to  Nick.  It  was  not  that  her  own 
feelings  were  in  any  like  measure  engaged;  but 
because,  as  the  decision  to  give  up  Strefford 
affirmed  itself,  she  remembered  only  his  kindness, 
his  forbearance,  his  good  humour,  and  all  the 
other  qualities  she  had  always  liked  in  him;  and 
because  she  felt  ashamed  of  the  hesitations  which 
must  cause  him  so  much  pain  and  humiliation. 
Yes :  humiliation  chiefly.  She  knew  that  what  she 
had  to  say  would  hurt  his  pride,  in  whatever  way 


280      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

she  framed  her  renunciation;  and  her  pen  wav 
ered,  hating  its  task.  Then  she  remembered  Van- 
derlyn's  words  about  his  wife:  "There  are  some 
of  our  old  times  I  don't  suppose  I  shall  ever 
forget — "  and  a  phrase  of  Grace  Fulmer's  that 
she  had  but  half  grasped  at  the  time:  "You 
haven't  been  married  long  enough  to  understand 
how  trifling  such  things  seem  in  the  balance  of 
one's  memories." 

Here  were  two  people  who  had  penetrated  far 
ther  than  she  into  the  labyrinth  of  the  wedded 
state,  and  struggled  through  some  of  its  thorniest 
passages ;  and  yet  both,  one  consciously,  the  other 
half -unaware,  testified  to  the  mysterious  fact 
which  was  already  dawning  on  her:  that  the  in 
fluence  of  a  marriage  begun  in  mutual  under 
standing  is  too  deep  not  to  reassert  itself  even  in 
the  moment  of  flight  and  denial. 

"The  real  reason  is  that  you're  not  Nick"  was 
what  she  would  have  said  to  Strefford  if  she  had 
dared  to  set  down  the  bare  truth;  and  she  knew 
that,  whatever  she  wrote,  he  was  too  acute  not  to 
read  that  into  it. 

"He'll  think  it's  because  I'm  still  in  love  with 
Nick  .  .  .  and  perhaps  I  am.  But  even  if  I  were, 
the  difference  doesn't  seem  to  lie  there,  after  all, 
but  deeper,  in  things  we've  shared  that  seem  to 
be  meant  to  outlast  love,  or  to  change  it  into  some 
thing  different. ' '  If  she  could  have  hoped  to  make 
Strefford  understand  that,  the  letter  would  have 
been  easy  enough  to  write — but  she  knew  just  at 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      281 

what  point  his  imagination  would  fail,  in  what 
obvious  and  superficial  inferences  it  would  rest. 

"Poor  Streff — poor  me!"  she  thought  as  she 
sealed  the  letter. 

After  she  had  despatched  it  a  sense  of  blank- 
ness  descended  on  her.  She  had  succeeded  in  driv 
ing  from  her  mind  all  vain  hesitations,  doubts,  re 
turns  upon  herself:  her  healthy  system  naturally 
rejected  them.  But  they  left  a  queer  emptiness 
in  which  her  thoughts  rattled  about  as  thoughts 
might,  she  supposed,  in  the  first  moments  after 
death — before  one  got  used  to  it.  To  get  used  to 
being  dead :  that  seemed  to  be  her  immediate  busi 
ness.  And  she  felt  such  a  novice  at  it — felt  so  hor 
ribly  alive !  How  had  those  others  learned  to  do 
without  living?  Nelson — well,  he  was  still  in  the 
throes ;  and  probably  never  would  understand,  or 
be  able  to  communicate,  the  lesson  when  he  had 
mastered  it.  But  Grace  Fulmer — she  suddenly 
remembered  that  Grace  was  in  Paris,  and  set  forth 
to  find  her. 


XXIV 

NICK  LANSING  had  walked  out  a  long  way 
into  the  Campagna.  His  hours  were  seldom 
his  own,  for  both  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hicks  were  becom 
ing  more  and  more  addicted  to  sudden  and  some 
what  imperious  demands  upon  his  time;  but  on 
this  occasion  he  had  simply  slipped  away  after 
luncheon,  and  taking  the  tram  to  the  Porta 
Salaria,  had  wandered  on  thence  in  the  direction 
of  the  Ponte  Nomentano. 

He  wanted  to  get  away  and  think ;  but  now  that 
he  had  done  it  the  business  proved  as  unfruitful 
as  everything  he  had  put  his  hand  to  since  he  had 
left  Venice.  Think — think  about  what?  His  fu 
ture  seemed  to  him  a  negligible  matter  since  he 
had  received,  two  months  earlier,  the  few  lines  in 
which  Susy  had  asked  him  for  her  freedom. 

The  letter  had  been  a  shock — though  he  had 
fancied  himself  so  prepared  for  it — yet  it  had  also, 
in  another  sense,  been  a  relief,  since,  now  that  at 
last  circumstances  compelled  him  to  write  to  her, 
they  also  told  him  what  to  say.  And  he  had  said 
it  as  briefly  and  simply  as  possible,  telling  her  that 
he  would  put  no  obstacle  in  the  way  of  her  release, 
that  he  held  himself  at  her  lawyer's  disposal  to 
answer  any  further  communication — and  that  he 

282 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      283 

would  never  forget  their  days  together,  or  cease  to 
bless  her  for  them. 

That  was  all.  He  gave  his  Roman  banker's  ad 
dress,  and  waited  for  another  letter;  but  none 
came.  Probably  the  * '  formalities, ' '  whatever  they 
were,  took  longer  than  he  had  supposed ;  and  being 
in  no  haste  to  recover  his  own  liberty,  he  did  not 
try  to  learn  the  cause  of  the  delay.  From  that 
moment,  however,  he  considered  himself  virtually 
free,  and  ceased,  by  the  same  token,  to  take  any 
interest  in  his  own  future.  His  life  seemed  as  flat 
as  a  convalescent's  first  days  after  the  fever  has 
dropped. 

The  only  thing  he  was  sure  of  was  that  he  was 
not  going  to  remain  in  the  Hickses'  employ:  when 
they  left  Rome  for  Central  Asia  he  had  no  inten 
tion  of  accompanying  them.  The  part  of  Mr. 
Butties'  successor  was  becoming  daily  more  in 
tolerable  to  him,  for  the  very  reasons  that  had 
probably  made  it  most  gratifying  to  Mr.  Buttles. 
To  be  treated  by  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hicks  as  a  paid 
oracle,  a  paraded  and  petted  piece  of  property, 
was  a  good  deal  more  distasteful  than  he  could 
have  imagined  any  relation  with  these  kindly  peo 
ple  could  be.  And  since  their  aspirations  had  be 
come  frankly  social  he  found  his  task,  if  easier,  yet 
far  less  congenial  than  during  his  first  months 
with  them.  He  preferred  patiently  explaining  to 
Mrs.  Hicks,  for  the  hundredth  time,  that  Sas- 
sanian  and  Saracenic  were  not  interchangeable 
terms,  to  unravelling  for  her  the  genealogies  of 


284      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

her  titled  guests,  and  reminding  her,  when  she 
" seated'*  her  dinner-parties,  that  Dukes  ranked 
higher  than  Princes.  No — the  job  was  decidedly 
intolerable;  and  he  would  have  to  look  out  for 
another  means  of  earning  his  living.  But  that  was 
not  what  he  had  really  got  away  to  think  about. 
He  knew  he  should  never  starve;  he  had  even 
begun  to  believe  again  in  his  book.  What  he 
wanted  to  think  of  was  Susy — or  rather,  it  was 
Susy  that  he  could  not  help  thinking  of,  on  what 
ever  train  of  thought  he  set  out. 

Again  and  again  he  fancied  he  had  established 
a  truce  with  the  past:  had  come  to  terms — the 
terms  of  defeat  and  failure — with  that  bright 
enemy  called  happiness.  And,  in  truth,  he  had 
reached  the  point  of  definitely  knowing  that  he 
could  never  return  to  the  kind  of  life  that  he  and 
Susy  had  embarked  on.  It  had  been  the  tragedy 
of  their  relation  that  loving  her  roused  in  him 
ideals  she  could  never  satisfy.  He  had  fallen  in 
love  with  her  because  she  was,  like  himself, 
amused,  unprejudiced  and  disenchanted;  and  he 
could  not  go  on  loving  her  unless  she  ceased  to  be 
all  these  things.  From  that  circle  there  was  no 
issue,  and  in  it  he  desperately  revolved. 

If  he  had  not  heard  such  persistent  rumours  of 
her  re-marriage  to  Lord  Altringham  he  might 
have  tried  to  see  her  again;  but,  aware  of  the 
danger  and  the  hopelessness  of  a  meeting,  he  was, 
on  the  whole,  glad  to  have  a  reason  for  avoiding 
it.  Such,  at  least,  he  honestly  supposed  to  be  his 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      285 

state  of  mind  until  he  found  himself,  as  on  this 
occasion,  free  to  follow  out  his  thought  to  its  end. 
That  end,  invariably,  was  Susy ;  not  the  bundle  of 
qualities  and  defects  into  which  his  critical  spirit 
had  tried  to  sort  her  out,  but  the  soft  blur  of  iden 
tity,  of  personality,  of  eyes,  hair,  mouth,  laugh, 
tricks  of  speech  and  gesture,  that  were  all  so 
solely  and  profoundly  her  own,  and  yet  so  mys 
teriously  independent  of  what  she  might  do,  say, 
think,  in  crucial  circumstances.  He  remembered 
her  once  saying  to  him:  "  After  all,  you  were  right 
when  you  wanted  me  to  be  your  mistress,"  and 
the  indignant  stare  of  incredulity  with  which  he 
had  answered  her.  Yet  in  these  hours  it  was  the 
palpable  image  of  her  that  clung  closest,  till,  as  in 
variably  happened,  his  vision  came  full  circle,  and 
feeling  her  on  his  breast  he  wanted  her  also  in 
his  soul. 

Well — such  all-encompassing  loves  were  the 
rarest  of  human  experiences ;  he  smiled  at  his  pre 
sumption  in  wanting  no  other.  Wearily  he  turned, 
and  tramped  homeward  through  the  winter  twi 
light 

At  the  door  of  the  hotel  he  ran  across  the  Prince 
of  Teutoburg's  aide-de-camp.  They  had  not  met 
for  some  days,  and  Nick  had  a  vague  feeling  that 
if  the  Prince's  matrimonial  designs  took  definite 
shape  he  himself  was  not  likely,  after  all,  to  be 
their  chosen  exponent.  He  had  surprised,  now 
and  then,  a  certain  distrustful  coldness  under  the 
Princess  Mother's  cordial  glance,  and  had  con- 


286      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

eluded  that  she  perhaps  suspected  him  of  being 
an  obstacle  to  her  son's  aspirations.  He  had  no 
idea  of  playing  that  part,  but  was  not  sorry  to 
appear  to ;  for  he  was  sincerely  attached  to  Coral 
Hicks,  and  hoped  for  her  a  more  human  fate  than 
that  of  becoming  Prince  Anastasius's  consort. 

This  evening,  however,  he  was  struck  by  the 
beaming  alacrity  of  the  aide-de-camp's  greeting. 
Whatever  cloud  had  hung  between  them  had 
lifted:  the  Teutoburg  clan,  for  one  reason  or  an 
other,  no  longer  feared  or  distrusted  him.  The 
change  was  conveyed  in  a  mere  hand-pressure,  a 
brief  exchange  of  words,  for  the  aide-de-camp  was 
hastening  after  a  well-known  dowager  of  the  old 
Roman  world,  whom  he  helped  into  a  large  coro- 
netted  brougham  which  looked  as  if  it  had  been 
extracted,  for  some  ceremonial  purpose,  from  a 
museum  of  historic  vehicles.  And  in  an  instant  it 
flashed  on  Lansing  that  this  lady  had  been  the 
person  chosen  to  lay  the  Prince's  offer  at  Miss 
Hicks 's  feet. 

The  discovery  piqued  him ;  and  instead  of  mak 
ing  straight  for  his  own  room  he  went  up  to  Mrs. 
Hicks 's  drawing-room. 

The  room  was  empty,  but  traces  of  elaborate  tea 
pervaded  it,  and  an  immense  bouquet  of  stiff 
roses  lay  on  the  centre  table.  As  he  turned  away, 
Eldorada  Tooker  flushed  and  tear-stained, 
abruptly  entered. 

"Oh,  Mr.  Lansing — we  were  looking  every 
where  for  you. ' ' 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      287 

"Looking  for  me?" 

"Yes.  Coral  especially  .  .  .  she  wants  to  see 
you.  She  wants  you  to  come  to  her  own  sitting- 
room." 

She  led  him  across  the  ante-chamber  and  down 
the  passage  to  the  separate  suite  which  Miss  Hicks 
inhabited.  On  the  threshold  Eldorada  gasped 
out  emotionally:  "You'll  find  her  looking 
lovely — "  and  jerked  away  with  a  sob  as  he  en 
tered. 

Coral  Hicks  was  never  lovely :  but  she  certainly 
looked  unusually  handsome.  Perhaps  it  was  the 
long  dress  of  black  velvet  which,  outlined  against 
a  shaded  lamp,  made  her  strong  build  seem  slen 
derer,  or  perhaps  the  slight  flush  on  her  dusky 
cheek:  a  bloom  of  womanhood  hung  upon  her 
which  she  made  no  effort  to  dissemble.  Indeed, 
it  was  one  of  her  originalities  that  she  always 
gravely  and  courageously  revealed  the  utmost  of 
whatever  mood  possessed  her. 

"How  splendid  you  look!"  he  said,  smiling  at 
her. 

She  threw  her  head  back  and  gazed  him  straight 
in  the  eyes.  "That's  going  to  be  my  future  job." 

"To  look  splendid?" 

"Yes." 

' '  And  wear  a  crown  ? ' ' 

"And  wear  a  crown.  .  .  ." 

They  continued  to  consider  each  other  without 
speaking.  Nick's  heart  contracted  with  pity  and 
perplexity. 


288      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,  Coral— it's  not  decided?" 

She  scrutinized  him  for  a  last  penetrating  mo 
ment;  then  she  looked  away.  "I'm  never  long 
deciding." 

He  hesitated,  choking  with  contradictory  im 
pulses,  and  afraid  to  formulate  any,  lest  they 
should  either  mislead  or  pain  her. 

"Why  didn't  you  tell  me?"  he  questioned 
lamely ;  and  instantly  perceived  his  blunder. 

She  sat  down,  and  looked  up  at  him  under 
brooding  lashes — had  he  ever  noticed  the  thick 
ness  of  her  lashes  before? 

"Would  it  have  made  any  difference  if  I  had 
told  you?" 

"Any  difference — ?" 

'• l  Sit  down  by  me, ' '  she  commanded.  ' '  I  want  to 
talk  to  you.  You  can  say  now  whatever  you 
might  have  said  sooner.  I  'm  not  married  yet :  I  'm 
still  free." 

"You  haven't  given  your  answer?" 

"It  doesn't  matter  if  I  have." 

The  retort  frightened  him  with  the  glimpse  of 
what  she  still  expected  of  him,  and  what  he  was 
still  so  unable  to  give. 

"That  means  you've  said  yes?"  he  pursued,  to 
gain  time. 

"Yes  or  no — it  doesn't  matter.  I  had  to  say 
something.  What  I  want  is  your  advice. ' ' 

"At  the  eleventh  hour?" 

"Or  the  twelfth. ' '    She  paused.    ' ' What  shall  I 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      289 

do?"  she  questioned,  with  a  sudden  accent  of 
helplessness. 

He  looked  at  her  as  helplessly.  He  could  not 
say:  "Ask  yourself — ask  your  parents."  Her 
next  word  would  sweep  away  such  frail  hypocri 
sies.  Her  "What  shall  I  do?"  meant  "What  are 
you  going  to  do  I"  and  he  knew  it,  and  knew  that 
she  knew  it. 

"I'm  a  bad  person  to  give  any  one  matrimonial 
advice,"  he  began,  with  a  strained  smile;  "but  I 
had  such  a  different  vision  for  you." 

"What  kind  of  a  vision?"  She  was  merciless. 

"Merely  what  people  call  happiness,  dear." 

"  'People  call* — you  see  you  don't  believe  in  it 
yourself !  Well,  neither  do  I — in  that  form,  at  any 
rate." 

He  considered.  "I  believe  in  trying  for  it — 
even  if  the  trying 's  the  best  of  it." 

"Well,  I've  tried,  and  failed.  And  I'm  twenty- 
two,  and  I  never  was  young.  I  suppose  I  haven't 
enough  imagination."  She  drew  a  deep  breath. 
1 '  Now  I  want  something  different. ' '  She  appeared 
to  search  for  the  word.  "I  want  to  be — prom 
inent,"  she  declared. 

"Prominent?" 

She  reddened  swarthily.  "Oh,  you  smile — you 
think  it's  ridiculous:  it  doesn't  seem  worth  while 
to  you.  That's  because  you've  always  had  all 
those  things.  But  I  haven't.  I  know  what  father 
pushed  up  from,  and  I  want  to  push  up  as  high 


290      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

again — higher.  No,  I  haven't  got  much  imagina 
tion.  I've  always  liked  Facts.  And  I  find  I  shall 
like  the  fact  of  being  a  Princess — choosing  the 
people  I  associate  with,  and  being  up  above  all 
these  European  grandees  that  father  and  mother 
bow  down  to,  though  they  think  they  despise  them. 
You  can  be  up  above  these  people  by  just  being 
yourself ;  you  know  how.  But  I  need  a  platform — 
a  sky-scraper.  Father  and  mother  slaved  to  give 
me  my  education.  They  thought  education  was 
the  important  tiling;  but,  since  we've  all  three  of 
us  got  mediocre  minds,  it  has  just  landed  us  among 
mediocre  people.  Don't  you  suppose  I  see  through 
all  the  sham  science  and  sham  art  and  sham 
everything  we're  surrounded  with?  That's  why 
I  want  to  buy  a  place  at  the  very  top,  where  I  shall 
be  powerful  enough  to  get  about  me  the  people  I 
want,  the  big  people,  the  right  people,  and  to  help 
them.  I  want  to  promote  culture,  like  those 
Renaissance  women  you're  always  talking  about. 
I  want  to  do  it  for  Apex  City;  do  you  understand? 
And  for  father  and  mother  too.  I  want  all  those 
titles  carved  on  my  tombstone.  They're  facts, 
anyhow!  Don't  laugh  at  me.  ..."  She  broke  off 
with  one  of  her  clumsy  smiles,  and  moved  away 
from  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  room. 

He  sat  looking  at  her  with  a  curious  feeling  of 
admiration.  Her  harsh  positivism  was  like  a  tonic 
to  his  disenchanted  mood,  and  he  thought:  "What 
a  pity!" 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON       291 

Aloud  he  said:  "I  don't  feel  like  laughing  at 
you.  You're  a  great  woman." 

"Then  I  shall  be  a  great  Princess." 

"Oh — but  you  might  have  been  something  so 
much  greater!" 

Her  face  flamed  again.    ' '  Don 't  say  that ! ' ' 

He  stood  up  involuntarily,  and  drew  near  her. 

"Why  not?" 

'  *  Because  you  're  the  only  man  with  whom  I  can 
imagine  the  other  kind  of  greatness." 

It  moved  him — moved  him  unexpectedly.  He 
got  as  far  as  saying  to  himself:  "Good  God,  if  she 
were  not  so  hideously  rich — "  and  then  of  yielding 
for  a  moment  to  the  persuasive  vision  of  all  that 
he  and  she  might  do  with  those  very  riches  which 
he  dreaded.  After  all,  there  was  nothing  mean  in 
her  ideals — they  were  hard  and  material,  in  keep 
ing  with  her  primitive  and  massive  person;  but 
they  had  a  certain  grim  nobility.  And  when  she 
spoke  of  "the  other  kind  of  greatness"  he  knew 
that  she  understood  what  she  was  talking  of,  and 
was  not  merely  saying  something  to  draw  him  on, 
to  get  him  to  commit  himself.  There  was  not  a 
drop  of  guile  in  her,  except  that  which  her  very 
honesty  distilled. 

"The  other  kind  of  greatness?"  he  repeated. 

"Well,  isn't  that  what  you  said  happiness  was? 
I  wanted  to  be  happy  .  .  .  but  one  can't  choose." 

He  went  up  to  her.  "No,  one  can't  choose.  And 
how  can  anyone  give  you  happiness  who  hasn't 


292      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

got  it  himself !"  He  took  her  hands,  feeling  how 
large,  muscular  and  voluntary  they  were,  even  as 
they  melted  in  his  palms. 

"My  poor  Coral,  of  what  use  can  I  ever  be  to 
you?  What  you  need  is  to  be  loved. " 

She  drew  back  and  gave  him  one  of  her  straight 
strong  glances:  "No,"  she  said  gallantly,  "but 
just  to  love." 


PART  III 


XXV 

IN  the  persistent  drizzle  of  a  Paris  winter  morn 
ing  Susy  Lansing  walked  back  alone  from  the 
school  at  which  she  had  just  deposited  the  four 
eldest  Fulmers  to  the  little  house  in  Passy  where, 
for  the  last  two  months,  she  had  been  living  with 
them. 

She  had  on  ready-made  boots,  an  old  water 
proof  and  a  last  year's  hat;  but  none  of  these 
facts  disturbed  her,  though  she  took  no  particular 
pride  in  them.  The  truth  was  that  she  was  too 
busy  to  think  much  about  them.  Since  she  had 
assumed  the  charge  of  the  Fulmer  children,  in 
the  absence  of  both  their  parents  in  Italy,  she  had 
had  to  pass  through  such  an  arduous  apprentice 
ship  of  motherhood  that  every  moment  of  her 
waking  hours  was  packed  with  things  to  do  at 
once,  and  other  things  to  remember  to  do  later. 
There  were  only  five  Fulmers ;  but  at  times  they 
were  like  an  army  with  banners,  and  their  power 
of  self-multiplication  was  equalled  only  by  the 
manner  in  which  they  could  dwindle,  vanish,  grow 
mute,  and  become  as  it  were  a  single  tumbled 
brown  head  bent  over  a  book  in  some  corner  of 
the  house  in  which  nobody  would  ever  have 
thought  of  hunting  for  them — and  which,  of 

295 


296      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

course,  were  it  the  bonne's  room  in  the  attic,  or  the 
subterranean  closet  where  the  trunks  were  kept, 
had  been  singled  out  by  them  for  that  very  reason. 

These  changes  from  ubiquity  to  invisibility 
would  have  seemed  to  Susy,  a  few  months  earlier, 
one  of  the  most  maddening  of  many  characteris 
tics  not  calculated  to  promote  repose.  But  now  she 
felt  differently.  She  had  grown  interested  in  her 
charges,  and  the  search  for  a  clue  to  their  methods, 
whether  tribal  or  individual,  was  as  exciting  to  her 
as  the  development  of  a  detective  story. 

What  interested  her  most  in  the  whole  stirring 
business  was  the  discovery  that  they  had  a 
method.  These  little  creatures,  pitched  upward 
into  experience  on  the  tossing  waves  of  their  par 
ents  *  agitated  lives,  had  managed  to  establish  a 
rough-and-ready  system  of  self-government. 
Junie,  the  eldest  (the  one  who  already  chose  her 
mother's  hats,  and  tried  to  put  order  in  her  ward 
robe)  was  the  recognized  head  of  the  state.  At 
twelve  she  knew  lots  of  things  which  her  mother 
had  never  thoroughly  learned,  and  Susy,  her  tem 
porary  mother,  had  never  even  guessed  at:  she 
spoke  with  authority  on  all  vital  subjects,  from 
castor-oil  to  flannel  under-clothes,  from  the  fair 
sharing  of  stamps  or  marbles  to  the  number  of 
helpings  of  rice-pudding  or  jam  which  each  child 
was  entitled  to. 

There  was  hardly  any  appeal  from  her  verdict ; 
yet  each  of  her  subjects  revolved  in  his  or  her  own 
orbit  of  independence,  according  to  laws  which 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      297 

Junie  acknowledged  and  respected ;  and  the  inter 
preting  of  this  mysterious  charter  of  rights  and 
privileges  had  not  been  without  difficulty  for  Susy. 

Besides  this,  there  were  material  difficulties  to 
deal  with.  The  six  of  them,  and  the  breathless 
bonne  who  cooked  and  slaved  for  them  all,  had  but 
a  slim  budget  to  live  on;  and,  as  Junie  remarked, 
you'd  have  thought  the  boys  ate  their  shoes,  the 
way  they  vanished.  They  ate,  certainly,  a  great 
deal  else,  and  mostly  of  a  nourishing  and  expen 
sive  kind.  They  had  definite  views  about  the 
amount  and  quality  of  their  food,  and  were  cap 
able  of  concerted  rebellion  when  Susy's  catering 
fell  beneath  their  standard.  All  this  made  her 
life  a  hurried  and  harassing  business,  but  never — 
what  she  had  most  feared  it  would  be — a  dull  or 
depressing  one. 

It  was  not,  she  owned  to  herself,  that  the  society 
of  the  Fulmer  children  had  roused  in  her  any  ab 
stract  passion  for  the  human  young.  She  knew — 
had  known  since  Nick's  first  kiss — how  she  would 
love  any  child  of  his  and  hers ;  and  she  had  cher 
ished  poor  little  Clarissa  Vanderlyn  with  a  shrink 
ing  and  wistful  solicitude.  But  in  these  rough 
young  Fulmers  she  took  a  positive  delight,  and 
for  reasons  that  were  increasingly  clear  to  her. 
It  was  because,  in  the  first  place,  they  were  all  in 
telligent;  and  because  their  intelligence  had  been 
fed  only  on  things  worth  caring  for.  However 
inadequate  Grace  Fulmer 's  bringing-up  of  her  in 
creasing  tribe  had  been,  they  had  heard  in  her 


298      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

company  nothing  trivial  or  dull :  good  music,  good 
books  and  good  talk  had  been  their  daily  food,  and 
if  at  times  they  stamped  and  roared  and  crashed 
about  like  children  unblessed  by  such  privileges, 
at  others  they  shone  with  the  light  of  poetry  and 
spoke  with  the  voice  of  wisdom. 

That  had  been  Susy's  discovery:  for  the  first 
time  she  was  among  awakening  minds  which  had 
been  wakened  only  to  beauty.  From  their  cramped 
and  uncomfortable  household  Grace  and  Nat  Ful- 
mer  had  managed  to  keep  out  mean  envies,  vulgar 
admirations,  shabby  discontents ;  above  all  the  din 
and  confusion  the  great  images  of  beauty  had 
brooded,  like  those  ancestral  figures  that  stood 
apart  on  their  shelf  in  the  poorest  Eoman  house 
holds. 

No,  the  task  she  had  undertaken  for  want  of  a 
better  gave  Susy  no  sense  of  a  missed  vocation: 
"mothering"  on  a  large  scale  would  never,  she 
perceived,  be  her  job.  Bather  it  gave  her,  in  odd 
ways,  the  sense  of  being  herself  mothered,  of  tak 
ing  her  first  steps  in  the  life  of  immaterial  values 
which  had  begun  to  seem  so  much  more  substantial 
than  any  she  had  known. 

On  the  day  when  she  had  gone  to  Grace  Fulmer 
for  counsel  and  comfort  she  had  little  guessed  that 
they  would  come  to  her  in  this  form.  She  had 
found  her  friend,  more  than  ever  distracted  and 
yet  buoyant,  riding  the  large  untidy  waves  of  her 
life  with  the  splashed  ease  of  an  amphibian.  Grace 
was  probably  the  only  person  among  Susy's 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      299 

friends  who  could  have  understood  why  she  could 
not  make  up  her  mind  to  marry  Altringham ;  but 
at  the  moment  Grace  was  too  much  absorbed  in  her 
own  problems  to  pay  much  attention  to  her 
friend's,  and,  according  to  her  wont,  she  immedi 
ately  " unpacked"  her  difficulties. 

Nat  was  not  getting  what  she  had  hoped  out  of 
his  European  opportunity.  Oh,  she  was  enough 
of  an  artist  herself  to  know  that  there  must  be 
fallow  periods — that  the  impact  of  new  impres 
sions  seldom  produced  immediate  results.  She 
had  allowed  for  all  that.  But  her  past  experience 
of  Nat's  moods  had  taught  her  to  know  just  when 
he  was  assimilating,  when  impressions  were  fruc 
tifying  in  him.  And  now  they  were  not,  and  he 
knew  it  as  well  as  she  did.  There  had  been  too 
much  rushing  about,  too  much  excitement  and 
sterile  flattery  .  .  .  Mrs.  Melrose?  Well,  yes,  for 
a  while  .  .  .  the  trip  to  Spain  had  been  a  love- 
journey,  no  doubt.  Grace  spoke  calmly,  but  the 
lines  of  her  face  sharpened :  she  had  suffered,  oh 
horribly,  at  his  going  to  Spain  without  her.  Yet 
she  couldn't,  for  the  children's  sake,  afford  to  miss 
the  big  sum  that  Ursula  Gillow  had  given  her  for 
her  fortnight  at  Euan.  And  her  playing  had 
struck  people,  and  led,  on  the  way  back,  to  two  or 
three  profitable  engagements  in  private  houses  in 
London.  Fashionable  society  had  made  "a  little 
fuss"  about  her,  and  it  had  surprised  and  pleased 
Nat,  and  given  her  a  new  importance  in  his  eyes. 
"He  was  beginning  to  forget  that  I  wasn't  only  a 


300      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

nursery-maid,  and  it's  been  a  good  thing  for  him 
to  be  reminded  .  .  .  but  the  great  thing  is  that 
with  what  I've  earned  he  and  I  can  go  off  to 
southern  Italy  and  Sicily  for  three  months.  You 
know  I  know  how  to  manage  .  .  .  and,  alone  with 
me,  Nat  will  settle  down  to  work:  to  observing, 
feeling,  soaking  things  in.  It's  the  only  way.  Mrs. 
Melrose  wants  to  take  him,  to  pay  all  the  expenses 
again — well  she  shan't.  I'll  pay  them."  Her  worn 
cheek  flushed  with  triumph.  ' '  And  you  '11  see  what 
wonders  will  come  of  it.  ...  Only  there's  the 
problem  of  the  children.  Junie  quite  agrees  that 
we  can't  take  them.  ..." 

Thereupon  she  had  unfolded  her  idea.  If  Susy 
was  at  a  loose  end,  and  hard  up,  why  shouldn't  she 
take  charge  of  the  children  while  their  parents 
were  in  Italy?  For  three  months  at  most — Grace 
could  promise  it  shouldn't  be  longer.  They 
couldn't  pay  her  much,  of  course,  but  at  least  she 
would  be  lodged  and  fed.  "And,  you  know,  it  will 
end  by  interesting  you — I'm  sure  it  will,"  the 
mother  concluded,  her  irrepressible  hopefulness 
rising  even  to  this  height,  while  Susy  stood  before 
her  with  a  hesitating  smile. 

Take  care  of  five  Fulmers  for  three  months! 
The  prospect  cowed  her.  If  there  had  been  only 
Junie  and  Geordie,  the  oldest  and  youngest  of  the 
band,  she  might  have  felt  less  hesitation.  But 
there  was  Nat,  the  second  in  age,  whose  motor- 
horn  had  driven  her  and  Nick  out  to  the  hill-side  on 
their  fatal  day  at  the  Fulmers'  and  there  were 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      301 

the  twins,  Jack  and  Peggy,  of  whom  she  had  kept 
memories  almost  equally  disquieting.  To  rule  this 
uproarious  tribe  would  be  a  sterner  business  than 
trying  to  beguile  Clarissa  Vanderlyn's  ladylike 
leisure;  and  she  would  have  refused  on  the  spot, 
as  she  had  refused  once  before,  if  the  only  possible 
alternatives  had  not  come  to  seem  so  much  less 
bearable,  and  if  Junie,  called  in  for  advice,  and 
standing  there,  small,  plain  and  competent,  had 
not  said  in  her  quiet  grown-up  voice:  "Oh,  yes, 
I'm  sure  Mrs.  Lansing  and  I  can  manage  while 
you're  away — especially  if  she  reads  aloud  well." 

Reads  aloud  ivell!  The  stipulation  had  en 
chanted  Susy.  She  had  never  before  known  chik 
dren  who  cared  to  be  read  aloud  to;  she  remem 
bered  with  a  shiver  her  attempts  to  interest 
Clarissa  in  anything  but  gossip  and  the  fashions, 
and  the  tone  in  which  the  child  had  said,  show 
ing  Strefford's  trinket  to  her  father:  " Because  I 
said  I'd  rather  have  it  than  a  book." 

And  here  were  children  who  consented  to  be  left 
for  three  months  by  their  parents,  but  on  condi 
tion  that  a  good  reader  was  provided  for  them ! 

"Very  well — I  will!  But  what  shall  I  be  ex 
pected  to  read  to  you!"  she  had  gaily  questioned; 
and  Junie  had  answered,  after  one  of  her  sober 
pauses  of  reflection:  "The  little  ones  like  nearly 
everything;  but  Nat  and  I  want  poetry  particu 
larly,  because  if  we  read  it  to  ourselves  we  so  often 
pronounce  the  puzzling  words  wrong,  and  then  it 
sounds  so  horrid." 


302      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,  I  hope  I  shall  pronounce  them  right," 
Susy  murmured,  stricken  with  self-distrust  and 
humility. 

Apparently  she  did ;  for  her  reading  was  a  suc 
cess,  and  even  the  twins  and  Geordie,  once  they 
had  grown  used  to  her,  seemed  to  prefer  a  ringing 
page  of  Henry  V,  or  the  fairy  scenes  from  the 
Midsummer  Night's  Dream,  to  their  own  more 
specialized  literature,  though  that  had  also  at 
times  to  be  provided. 

There  were,  in  fact,  no  lulls  in  her  life  with  the 
Fulmers ;  but  its  commotions  seemed  to  Susy  less 
meaningless,  and  therefore  less  fatiguing,  than 
those  that  punctuated  the  existence  of  people  like 
Altringham,  Ursula  Gillow,  Ellie  Vanderlyn  and 
their  train;  and  the  noisy  uncomfortable  little 
house  at  Passy  was  beginning  to  greet  her  with 
the  eyes  of  home  when  she  returned  there  after 
her  tramps  to  and  from  the  children's  classes.  At 
any  rate  she  had  the  sense  of  doing  something 
useful  and  even  necessary,  and  of  earning  her  own 
keep,  though  on  so  modest  a  scale ;  and  when  the 
children  were  in  their  quiet  mood,  and  demanded 
books  or  music  (or,  even,  on  one  occasion,  at  the 
surprising  Junie's  instigation,  a  collective  visit 
to  the  Louvre,  where  they  recognized  the  most  un 
likely  pictures,  and  the  two  elders  emitted  start 
ling  technical  judgments,  and  called  their  com 
panion's  attention  to  details  she  had  not  ob 
served)  ;  on  these  occasions,  Susy  had  a  surprised 
sense  of  being  drawn  back  into  her  brief  life  with 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      303 

Nick,  or  even  still  farther  and  deeper,  into  those 
visions  of  Nick's  own  childhood  on  which  the 
trivial  later  years  had  heaped  their  dust. 

It  was  curious  to  think  that  if  he  and  she  had 
remained  together,  and  she  had  had  a  child — the 
vision  used  to  come  to  her,  in  her  sleepless  hours, 
when  she  looked  at  little  Geordie,  in  his  cot  by  her 
bed — their  life  together  might  have  been  very 
much  like  the  life  she  was  now  leading,  a  small  ob 
scure  business  to  the  outer  world,  but  to  them 
selves  how  wide  and  deep  and  crowded ! 

She  could  not  bear,  at  that  moment,  the  Uiought 
of  giving  up  this  mystic  relation  to  the  life  she  had 
missed.  In  spite  of  the  hurry  and  fatigiie  of  her 
days,  the  shabbiness  and  discomfort  of  everything, 
and  the  hours  when  the  children  were  as  " horrid" 
as  any  other  children,  and  turned  a  conspiracy  of 
hostile  faces  to  all  her  appeals ;  in  spite  of  all  this 
she  did  not  want  to  give  them  up,  and  had  decided, 
when  their  parents  returned,  to  ask  to  go  back  to 
America  with  them.  Perhaps,  if  Nat's  success 
continued,  and  Grace  was  able  to  work  at  her 
music,  they  would  need  a  kind  of  governess-com 
panion.  At  any  rate,  she  could  picture  no  future 
less  distasteful. 

She  had  not  sent  to  Mr.  Spearman  Nick's  an 
swer  to  her  letter.  In  the  interval  between  writ 
ing  to  him  and  receiving  his  reply  she  had  broken 
with  Strefford;  she  had  therefore  no  object  in 
seeking  her  freedom.  If  Nick  wanted  his,  he  knew 
he  had  only  to  ask  for  it ;  and  his  silence,  as  the 


304       THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

weeks  passed,  woke  a  faint  hope  in  her.  The  hope 
flamed  high  when  she  read  one  day  in  the  news 
papers  a  vague  but  evidently  "inspired"  allusion 
to  the  possibility  of  an  alliance  between  his  Serene 
Highness  the  reigning  Prince  of  Teutoburg-Wald- 
hain  and  Miss  Coral  Hicks  of  Apex  City ;  it  sank 
to  ashes  when,  a  few  days  later,  her  eye  lit  on  a 
paragraph  wherein  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Mortimer  Hicks 
" requested  to  state"  that  there  was  no  truth  in 
the  report. 

On  the  foundation  of  these  two  statements  Susy 
raised  one  watch-tower  of  hope  after  another, 
feverish  edifices  demolished  or  rebuilt  by  every 
chance  hint  from  the  outer  world  wherein  Nick's 
name  figured  with  the  Hickses'.  And  still,  as  the 
days  passed  and  she  heard  nothing,  either  from 
him  or  from  her  lawyer,  her  flag  continued  to  fly 
from  the  quaking  structures. 

Apart  from  the  custody  of  the  children  there 
was  indeed  little  to  distract  her  mind  from  these 
persistent  broodings.  She  winced  sometimes  at 
the  thought  of  the  ease  with  which  her  fashionable 
friends  had  let  her  drop  out  of  sight.  In  the  per 
petual  purposeless  rush  of  their  days,  the  feverish 
making  of  winter  plans,  hurrying  off  to  the 
Riviera  or  St.  Moritz,  Egypt  or  New  York,  there 
was  no  time  to  hunt  up  the  vanished  or  to  wait  for 
the  laggard.  Had  they  learned  that  she  had 
broken  her  "engagement"  (how  she  hated  the 
word!)  to  Strefford,  and  had  the  fact  gone  about 
that  she  was  once  more  only  a  poor  hanger-on,  to 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      305 

be  taken  up  when  it  was  convenient,  and  ignored 
in  the  intervals?  She  did  not  know;  though  she 
fancied  Strefford's  newly-developed  pride  would 
prevent  his  revealing  to  any  one  what  had  passed 
between  them.  For  several  days  after  her  abrupt 
flight  he  had  made  no  sign ;  and  though  she  longed 
to  write  and  ask  his  forgiveness  she  could  not  find 
the  words.  Finally  it  was  he  who  wrote :  a  short 
note,  from  Altringham,  typical  of  all  that  was  best 
in  the  old  Strefford.  He  had  gone  down  to  Al 
tringham,  he  told  her,  to  think  quietly  over  their 
last  talk,  and  try  to  understand  what  she  had  been 
driving  at.  He  had  to  own  that  he  couldn't;  but 
that,  he  supposed,  was  the  very  head  and  front  of 
his  offending.  Whatever  he  had  done  to  displease 
her,  he  was  sorry  for ;  but  he  asked,  in  view  of  his 
invincible  ignorance,  to  be  allowed  not  to  regard 
his  offence  as  a  cause  for  a  final  break.  The  pos 
sibility  of  that,  he  found,  would  make  him  even 
more  unhappy  than  he  had  foreseen ;  as  she  knew, 
his  own  happiness  had  always  been  his  first  object 
in  life,  and  he  therefore  begged  her  to  suspend  her 
decision  a  little  longer.  He  expected  to  be  in  Paris 
within  another  two  months,  and  before  arriving 
he  would  write  again,  and  ask  her  to  see  him. 

The  letter  moved  her  but  did  not  make  her 
waver.  She  simply  wrote  that  she  was  touched  by 
his  kindness,  and  would  willingly  see  him  if  he 
came  to  Paris  later ;  though  she  was  bound  to  tell 
him  that  she  had  not  yet  changed  her  mind,  and 


306      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

did  not  believe  it  would  promote  his  happiness  to 
have  her  try  to  do  so. 

He  did  not  reply  to  this,  and  there  was  nothing 
further  to  keep  her  thoughts  from  revolving  end 
lessly  about  her  inmost  hopes  and  fears. 

On  the  rainy  afternoon  in  question,  tramping 
home  from  the  "cours"  (to  which  she  was  to  re 
turn  at  six),  she  had  said  to  herself  that  it  was 
two  months  that  very  day  since  Nick  had  known 
she  was  ready  to  release  him — and  that  after 
such  a  delay  he  was  not  likely  to  take  any  further 
steps.  The  thought  filled  her  with  a  vague  ecstasy. 
She  had  had  to  fix  an  arbitrary  date  as  the  term 
of  her  anguish,  and  she  had  fixed  that  one;  and 
behold  she  was  justified.  For  what  could  his 
silence  mean  but  that  he  too.  .  .  . 

On  the  hall-table  lay  a  typed  envelope  with  the 
Paris  postage-mark.  She  opened  it  carelessly, 
and  saw  that  the  letter-head  bore  Mr.  Spearman 's 
office  address.  The  words  beneath  spun  round  be 
fore  her  eyes.  .  .  .  "Has  notified  us  that  he  is  at 
your  disposal  .  .  .  carry  out  your  wishes  .  .  . 
arriving  in  Paris  ...  fix  an  appointment  with  his 
lawyers  ..." 

Nick — it  was  Nick  the  words  were  talking  of! 
It  was  the  fact  of  Nick's  return  to  Paris  that  was 
being  described  in  those  preposterous  terms !  She 
sank  down  on  the  bench  beside  the  dripping  um 
brella-stand  and  stared  vacantly  before  her.  It 
had  fallen  at  last — this  blow  in  which  she  now  saw 
that  she  had  never  really  believed !  And  yet  she 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      307 

had  imagined  she  was  prepared  for  it,  had  ex 
pected  it,  was  already  planning  her  future  life  in 
view  of  it — an  effaced  impersonal  life  in  the  serv 
ice  of  somebody  else's  children — when,  in  reality, 
under  that  thin  surface  of  abnegation  and  accept 
ance,  all  the  old  hopes  had  been  smouldering  red- 
hot  in  their  ashes !  What  was  the  use  of  any  self- 
discipline,  any  philosophy,  any  experience,  if  the 
lawless  self  underneath  could  in  an  instant  con 
sume  them  like  tinder? 

She  tried  to  collect  herself — to  understand  what 
had  happened.  Nick  was  coming  to  Paris — com 
ing  not  to  see  her  but  to  consult  his  lawyer!  It 
meant,  of  course,  that  he  had  definitely  resolved  to 
claim  his  freedom ;  and  that,  if  he  had  made  up  his 
mind  to  this  final  step,  after  more  than  six  months 
of  inaction  and  seeming  indifference,  it  could  be 
only  because  something  unforeseen  and  decisive 
had  happened  to  him.  Feverishly,  she  put  to 
gether  again  the  stray  scraps  of  gossip  and  the 
newspaper  paragraphs  that  had  reached  her  in  the 
last  months.  It  was  evident  that  Miss  Hicks 's 
projected  marriage  with  the  Prince  of  Teutoburg- 
Waldhain  had  been  broken  off  at  the  last  moment ; 
and  broken  off  because  she  intended  to  marry  Nick. 
The  announcement  of  his  arrival  in  Paris  and  the 
publication  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Hicks 's  formal  denial 
of  their  daughter's  betrothal  coincided  too  closely 
to  admit  of  any  other  inference.  Susy  tried  to 
grasp  the  reality  of  these  assembled  facts,  to  pic 
ture  to  herself  their  actual  tangible  results.  She 


308      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

thought  of  Coral  Hicks  bearing  the  name  of  Mrs. 
Nick  Lansing — her  name,  Susy's  own! — and  en 
tering  drawing-rooms  with  Nick  in  her  wake,  gaily 
welcomed  by  the  very  people  who,  a  few  months 
before,  had  welcomed  Susy  with  the  same  warmth. 
In  spite  of  Nick's  growing  dislike  of  society,  and 
Coral's  attitude  of  intellectual  superiority,  their 
wealth  would  fatally  draw  them  back  into  the 
world  to  which  Nick  was  attached  by  all  his  habits 
and  associations.  And  no  doubt  it  would  amuse 
him  to  re-enter  that  world  as  a  dispenser  of  hos 
pitality,  to  play  the  part  of  host  where  he  had  so 
long  been  a  guest ;  just  as  Susy  had  once  fancied 
it  would  amuse  her  to  re-enter  it  as  Lady  Altring- 
ham.  .  .  .  But,  try  as  she  would,  now  that  the 
reality  was  so  close  on  her,  she  could  not  visualize 
it  or  relate  it  to  herself.  The  mere  juxtaposition 
of  the  two  names — Coral,  Nick — which  in  old  times 
she  had  so  often  laughingly  coupled,  now  produced 
a  blur  in  her  brain. 

She  continued  to  sit  helplessly  beside  the  hall- 
table,  the  tears  running  down  her  cheeks.  The  ap 
pearance  of  the  bonne  aroused  her.  Her  youngest 
charge,  Geordie,  had  been  feverish  for  a  day  or 
two;  he  was  better,  but  still  confined  to  the 
nursery,  and  he  had  heard  Susy  unlock  the  house- 
door,  and  could  not  imagine  why  she  had  not  come 
straight  up  to  him.  He  now  began  to  manifest  his 
indignation  in  a  series  of  racking  howls,  and  Susy, 
shaken  out  of  her  trance,  dropped  her  cloak  and 
umbrella  and  hurried  up. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      309 

"Oh,  that  child!"  she  groaned. 

Under  the  Fulmer  roof  there  was  little  time  or 
space  for  the  indulgence  of  private  sorrows.  From 
morning  till  night  there  was  always  some  immedi 
ate  practical  demand  on  one 's  attention ;  and  Susy 
was  beginning  to  see  how,  in  contracted  house 
holds,  children  may  play  a  part  less  romantic  but 
not  less  useful  than  that  assigned  to  them  in  fic 
tion,  through  the  mere  fact  of  giving  their  parents 
no  leisure  to  dwell  on  irremediable  grievances. 
Though  her  own  apprenticeship  to  family  life  had 
been  so  short,  she  had  already  acquired  the  knack 
of  rapid  mental  readjustment,  and  as  she  hurried 
up  to  the  nursery  her  private  cares  were  dispelled 
by  a  dozen  problems  of  temperature,  diet  and 
medicine. 

Such  readjustment  was  of  course  only  mo 
mentary;  yet  each  time  it  happened  it  seemed  to 
give  her  more  firmness  and  flexibility  of  temper. 
"What  a  child  I  was  myself  six  months  ago ! "  she 
thought,  wondering  that  Nick's  influence,  and  the 
tragedy  of  their  parting,  should  have  done  less 
to  mature  and  steady  her  than  these  few  weeks  in 
a  house  full  of  children. 

Pacifying  Geordie  was  not  easy,  for  he  had  long 
since  learned  to  use  his  grievances  as  a  pretext  for 
keeping  the  offender  at  his  beck  with  a  continuous 
supply  of  stories,  songs  and  games.  "You'd  bet 
ter  be  careful  never  to  put  yourself  in  the  wrong 
with  Geordie,"  the  astute  Junie  had  warned  Susy 
at  the  outset,  "because  he's  got  such  a  memory, 


310      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

and  he  won't  make  it  up  with  yon  till  you've  told 
him  every  fairy-tale  he's  ever  heard  before." 

But  on  this  occasion,  as  soon  as  he  saw  her, 
Geordie's  indignation  melted.  She  was  still  in 
the  doorway,  compunctious,  abject  and  racking 
her  dazed  brain  for  his  favourite  stories,  when  she 
saw,  by  the  smoothing  out  of  his  mouth  and  the 
sudden  serenity  of  his  eyes,  that  he  was  going  to 
give  her  the  delicious  but  not  wholly  reassuring 
shock  of  being  a  good  boy. 

Thoughtfully  he  examined  her  face  as  she  knelt 
down  beside  the  cot;  then  he  poked  out  a  finger 
and  pressed  it  on  her  tearful  cheek. 

"Poor  Susy  got  a  pain  too,"  he  said,  putting 
his  arms  about  her;  and  as  she  hugged  him  close, 
he  added  philosophically:  "Tell  Geordie  a  new 
story,  darling,  and  'oo'll  forget  all  about  it." 


XXVI 

NICK  Lansing  arrived  in  Paris  two  days  after 
his  lawyer  had  announced  his  coming  to  Mr. 
Spearman. 

He  had  left  Rome  with  the  definite  purpose  of 
freeing  himself  and  Susy;  and  though  he  was  not 
pledged  to  Coral  Hicks  he  had  not  concealed  from 
her  the  object  of  his  journey.  In  vain  had  he 
tried  to  rouse  in  himself  any  sense  of  interest  in 
his  own  future.  Beyond  the  need  of  reaching  a 
definite  point  in  his  relation  to  Susy  his  imagina 
tion  could  not  travel.  But  he  had  been  moved  by 
Coral's  confession,  and  his  reason  told  him  that 
he  and  she  would  probably  be  happy  together, 
with  the  temperate  happiness  based  on  a  com 
munity  of  tastes  and  an  enlargement  of  oppor 
tunities.  He  meant,  on  his  return  to  Home,  to  ask 
her  to  marry  him ;  and  he  knew  that  she  knew  it. 
Indeed,  if  he  had  not  spoken  before  leaving  it  was 
with  no  idea  of  evading  his  fate,  or  keeping  her 
longer  in  suspense,  but  simply  because  of  the 
strange  apathy  that  had  fallen  on  him  since  he 
had  received  Susy's  letter.  In  his  incessant  self- 
communings  he  dressed  up  this  apathy  as  a  dis 
cretion  which  forbade  his  engaging  Coral's  fu 
ture  till  his  own  was  assured.  But  in  truth  he 

311 


312      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

knew  that  Coral's  future  was  already  engaged, 
and  his  with  it:  in  Rome  the  fact  had  seemed 
natural  and  even  inevitable. 

In  Paris,  it  instantly  became  the  thinnest  of 
unrealities.  Not  because  Paris  was  not  Eome,  nor 
because  it  was  Paris;  but  because  hidden  away 
somewhere  in  that  vast  unheeding  labyrinth  was 
the  half -forgotten  part  of  himself  that  was  Susy. 
.  .  .  For  weeks,  for  months  past,  his  mind  had 
been  saturated  with  Susy:  she  had  never  seemed 
more  insistently  near  him  than  as  their  separa 
tion  lengthened,  and  the  chance  of  reunion  became 
less  probable.  It  was  as  if  a  sickness  long  smoul 
dering  in  him  had  broken  out  and  become  acute, 
enveloping  him  in  the  Nessus-shirt  of  his  memo 
ries.  There  were  moments  when,  to  his  memory, 
their  actual  embraces  seemed  perfunctory,  acci 
dental,  compared  with  this  deep  deliberate  im 
print  of  her  soul  on  his. 

Yet  now  it  had  become  suddenly  different.  Now 
that  he  was  in  the  same  place  with  her,  and  might 
at  any  moment  run  across  her,  meet  her  eyes, 
hear  her  voice,  avoid  her  hand — now  that  pene 
trating  ghost  of  her  with  which  he  had  been  living 
was  sucked  back  into  the  shadows,  and  he  seemed, 
for  the  first  time  since  their  parting,  to  be  again 
in  her  actual  presence.  He  woke  to  the  fact  on 
the  morning  of  his  arrival,  staring  down  from 
his  hotel  window  on  a  street  she  would  perhaps 
walk  through  that  very  day,  and  over  a  limitless 
huddle  of  roofs,  one  of  which  covered  her  at  that 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      313 

hour.  The  abruptness  of  the  transition  startled 
him ;  he  had  not  known  that  her  mere  geographi 
cal  nearness  would  take  him  by  the  throat  in  that 
way.  What  would  it  be,  then,  if  she  were  to  walk 
into  the  room? 

Thank  heaven  that  need  never  happen !  He  was 
sufficiently  informed  as  to  French  divorce  pro 
ceedings  to  know  that  they  would  not  necessitate 
a  confrontation  with  his  wife;  and  with  ordinary 
luck,  and  some  precautions,  he  might  escape  even 
a  distant  glimpse  of  her.  He  did  not  mean  to  re 
main  in  Paris  more  than  a  few  days ;  and  during 
that  time  it  would  be  easy — knowing,  as  he  did,  her 
tastes  and  Altringham's — to  avoid  the  places 
where  she  was  likely  to  be  met.  He  did  not  know 
where  she  was  living,  but  imagined  her  to  be  stay 
ing  with  Mrs.  Melrose,  or  some  other  rich  friend, 
or  else  lodged,  in  prospective  affluence,  at  the 
Nouveau  Luxe,  or  in  a  pretty  flat  of  her  own. 
Trust  Susy — ah,  the  pang  of  it — to  " manage"! 

His  first  visit  was  to  his  lawyer's;  and  as  he 
walked  through  the  familiar  streets  each  ap 
proaching  face,  each  distant  figure  seemed  hers. 
The  obsession  was  intolerable.  It  would  not  last, 
of  course;  but  meanwhile  he  had  the  exposed 
sense  of  a  fugitive  in  a  nightmare,  who  feels  him 
self  the  only  creature  visible  in  a  ghostly  and  be 
setting  multitude.  The  eye  of  the  metropolis 
seemed  fixed  on  him  in  an  immense  unblinking 
stare. 

At  the  lawyer's  he  was  told  that,  as  a  first  step 


314      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

to  freedom,  he  must  secure  a  domicile  in  Paris. 
He  had  of  course  known  of  this  necessity :  he  had 
seen  too  many  friends  through  the  Divorce  Court, 
in  one  country  or  another,  not  to  be  fairly  familiar 
with  the  procedure.  But  the  fact  presented  a  dif 
ferent  aspect  as  soon  as  he  tried  to  relate  it  to 
himself  and  Susy:  it  was  as  though  Susy's  per 
sonality  were  a  medium  through  which  events  still 
took  on  a  transfiguring  colour.  He  found  the 
"domicile"  that  very  day:  a  tawdrily  furnished 
rez-de-chaussee,  obviously  destined  to  far  differ 
ent  uses.  And  as  he  sat  there,  after  the  concierge 
had  discreetly  withdrawn  with  the  first  quarter's 
payment  in  her  pocket,  and  stared  about  him  at 
the  vulgar  plushy  place,  he  burst  out  laughing 
at  what  it  was  about  to  figure  in  the  eyes  of  the 
law :  a  Home,  and  a  Home  desecrated  by  his  own 
act !  The  Home  in  which  he  and  Susy  had  reared 
their  precarious  bliss,  and  seen  it  crumble  at  the 
brutal  touch  of  his  unfaithfulness  and  his  cruelty 
— for  he  had  been  told  that  he  must  be  cruel  to  her 
as  well  as  unfaithful !  He  looked  at  the  walls  hung 
with  sentimental  photogravures,  at  the  shiny 
bronze  "nudes,"  the  moth-eaten  animal-skins  and 
the  bedizened  bed — and  once  more  the  unreality, 
the  impossibility,  of  all  that  was  happening  to  him 
entered  like  a  drug  into  his  veins. 

To  rouse  himself,  he  stood  up,  turned  the  key 
on  the  hideous  place,  and  returned  to  his  lawyer's. 
He  knew  that  in  the  hard  dry  atmosphere  of  the 
office  the  act  of  giving  the  address  of  the  flat 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      315 

would  restore  some  kind  of  reality  to  the  phan 
tasmal  transaction.  And  with  wonder  he  watched 
the  lawyer,  as  a  matter  of  course,  pencil  the  street 
and  the  number  on  one  of  the  papers  enclosed  in 
a  folder  on  which  his  own  name  was  elaborately 
engrossed. 

As  he  took  leave  it  occurred  to  him  to  ask  where 
Susy  was  living.  At  least  he  imagined  that  it  had 
.just  occurred  to  him,  and  that  he  was  making  the 
enquiry  merely  as  a  measure  of  precaution,  in 
order  to  know  what  quarter  of  Paris  to  avoid;  but 
in  reality  the  question  had  been  on  his  lips  since 
he  had  first  entered  the  office,  and  lurking  in  his 
mind  since  he  had  emerged  from  the  railway  sta 
tion  that  morning.  The  fact  of  not  knowing  where 
she  lived  made  the  whole  of  Paris  a  meaningless 
unintelligible  place,  as  useless  to  him  as  the  face 
of  a  huge  clock  that  has  lost  its  hour  hand. 

The  address  in  Passy  surprised  him:  he  had 
imagined  that  she  would  be  somewhere  in  the 
neighborhood  of  the  Champs  Elysees  or  the  Place 
de  1'Etoile.  But  probably  either  Mrs.  Melrose  or 
Ellie  Vanderlyn  had  taken  a  house  at  Passy.  Well 
— it  was  something  of  a  relief  to  know  that  she 
was  so  far  off.  No  business  called  him  to  that 
almost  suburban  region  beyond  the  Trocadero, 
and  there  was  much  less  chance  of  meeting  her 
than  if  she  had  been  in  the  centre  of  Paris. 

All  day  he  wandered,  avoiding  the  fashionable 
quarters,  the  streets  in  which  private  motors  glit 
tered  five  deep,  and  furred  and  feathered  sil- 


316      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

houettes  glided  from  them  into  tea-rooms,  picture- 
galleries  and  jewellers'  shops.  In  some  such 
scenes  Susy  was  no  doubt  figuring:  slenderer, 
finer,  vivider,  than  the  other  images  of  clay,  but 
imitating  their  gestures,  chattering  their  jargon, 
winding  her  hand  among  the  same  pearls  and 
sables.  He  struck  away  across  the  Seine,  along 
the  quays  to  the  Cite,  the  net-work  of  old  Paris,  the 
great  grey  vaults  of  St.  Eustache,  the  swarming 
streets  of  the  Marais.  He  gazed  at  monuments, 
dawdled  before  shop-windows,  sat  in  squares  and 
on  quays,  watching  people  bargain,  argue,  philan 
der,  quarrel,  work-girls  stroll  past  in  linked  bands, 
beggars  whine  on  the  bridges,  derelicts  doze  in 
the  pale  winter  sun,  mothers  in  mourning  hasten 
by  taking  children  to  school,  and  street-walkers 
beat  their  weary  rounds  before  the  cafes. 

The  day  drifted  on.  Toward  evening  he  began 
to  grow  afraid  of  his  solitude,  and  to  think  of  din 
ing  at  the  Nouveau  Luxe,  or  some  other  fashion 
able  restaurant  where  he  would  be  fairly  sure  to 
meet  acquaintances,  and  be  carried  off  to  a  theatre, 
a  boite  or  a  dancing-hall.  Anything,  anything 
now,  to  get  away  from  the  maddening  round  of  his 
thoughts.  He  felt  the  same  blank  fear  of  soli 
tude  as  months  ago  in  Genoa.  .  .  .  Even  if  he 
were  to  run  across  Susy  and  Altringham,  what  of 
it?  Better  get  the  job  over.  People  had  long  since 
ceased  to  take  on  tragedy  airs  about  divorce:  di 
viding  couples  dined  together  to  the  last,  and  met 
afterward  in  each  other's  houses,  happy  in  the 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      317 

consciousness  that  their  respective  remarriages 
had  provided  two  new  centres  of  entertainment. 
Yet  most  of  the  couples  who  took  their  re-matings 
so  philosophically  had  doubtless  had  their  hour 
of  enchantment,  of  belief  in  the  immortality  of 
loving;  whereas  he  and  Susy  had  simply  and 
frankly  entered  into  a  business  contract  for  their 
mutual  advantage.  The  fact  gave  the  last  touch 
of  incongruity  to  his  agonies  and  exaltations,  and 
made  him  appear  to  himself  as  grotesque  and 
superannuated  as  the  hero  of  a  romantic  novel. 

He  stood  up  from  a  bench  on  which  he  had  been 
lounging  in  the  Luxembourg  gardens,  and  hailed 
a  taxi.  Dusk  had  fallen,  and  he  meant  to  go  back 
to  his  hotel,  take  a  rest,  and  then  go  out  to  dine. 
But  instead,  he  threw  Susy's  address  to  the 
driver,  and  settled  down  in  the  cab,  resting  both 
hands  on  the  knob  of  his  umbrella  and  staring 
straight  ahead  of  him  as  if  he  were  accomplish 
ing  some  tiresome  duty  that  had  to  be  got  through 
with  before  he  could  turn  his  mind  to  more  im 
portant  things. 

"It's  the  easiest  way,"  he  heard  himself  say. 

At  the  street-corner — her  street-corner — he 
stopped  the  cab,  and  stood  motionless  while  it 
rattled  away.  It  was  a  short  vague  street,  much 
farther  off  than  he  had  expected,  and  fading 
away  at  the  farther  end  in  a  dusky  blur  of  hoard 
ings  overhung  by  trees.  A  thin  rain  was  begin 
ning  to  fall,  and  it  was  already  night  in  this  in 
adequately  lit  suburban  quarter.  Lansing  walked 


318      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

down  the  empty  street.  The  houses  stood  a  few 
yards  apart,  with  bare-twigged  shrubs  between, 
and  gates  and  railings  dividing  them  from  the 
pavement.  He  could  not,  at  first,  distinguish  their 
numbers;  but  presently,  coming  abreast  of  a 
street-lamp,  he  discovered  that  the  small  shabby 
fa§ade  it  illuminated  was  precisely  the  one  he 
sought.  The  discovery  surprised  him.  He  had 
imagined  that,  as  frequently  happened  in  the  out 
lying  quarters  of  Passy  and  La  Muette,  the  mean 
street  would  lead  to  a  stately  private  hotel,  built 
upon  some  bowery  fragment  of  an  old  country- 
place.  It  was  the  latest  whim  of  the  wealthy  to 
establish  themselves  on  these  outskirts  of  Paris, 
where  there  was  still  space  for  verdure;  and  he 
had  pictured  Susy  behind  some  pillared  house- 
front,  with  lights  pouring  across  glossy  turf  to 
sculptured  gateposts.  Instead,  he  saw  a  six-win 
dowed  house,  huddled  among  neighbours  of  its 
kind,  with  the  family  wash  fluttering  between 
meagre  bushes.  The  arc-light  beat  ironically  on 
its  front,  which  had  the  worn  look  of  a  tired  work 
woman's  face;  and  Lansing,  as  he  leaned  against 
the  opposite  railing,  vainly  tried  to  fit  his  vision 
of  Susy  into  so  humble  a  setting. 

The  probable  explanation  was  that  his  lawyer 
had  given  him  the  wrong  address;  not  only  the 
wrong  number  but  the  wrong  street.  He  pulled 
out  the  slip  of  paper,  and  was  crossing  over  to 
decipher  it  under  the  lamp,  when  an  errand-boy 
appeared  out  of  the  obscurity,  and  approached 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      319 

the  house.  Nick  drew  back,  and  the  boy,  unlatch 
ing  the  gate,  ran  up  the  steps  and  gave  the  bell 
a  pull. 

Almost  immediately  the  door  opened ;  and  there 
stood  Susy,  the  light  full  upon  her,  and  upon  a 
red-cheeked  child  against  her  shoulder.  The  space 
behind  them  was  dark,  or  so  dimly  lit  that  it 
formed  a  black  background  to  her  vivid  figure. 
She  looked  at  the  errand-boy  without  surprise, 
took  his  parcel,  and  after  he  had  turned  away, 
lingered  a  moment  in  the  door,  glancing  down  the 
empty  street. 

That  moment,  to  her  watcher,  seemed  quicker 
than  a  flash  yet  as  long  as  a  life-time.  There  she 
was,  a  stone's  throw  away,  but  utterly  uncon 
scious  of  his  presence :  his  Susy,  the  old  Susy,  and 
yet  a  new  Susy,  curiously  transformed,  trans 
figured  almost,  by  the  new  attitude  in  which  he 
beheld  her. 

In  the  first  shock  of  the  vision  he  forgot  his 
surprise  at  her  being  in  such  a  place,  forgot  to 
wonder  whose  house  she  was  in,  or  whose  was  the 
sleepy  child  in  her  arms.  For  an  instant  she  stood 
out  from  the  blackness  behind  her,  and  through 
the  veil  of  the  winter  night,  a  thing  apart,  an  un 
conditioned  vision,  the  eternal  image  of  the 
woman  and  the  child;  and  in  that  instant  every 
thing  within  him  was  changed  and  renewed.  His 
eyes  were  still  absorbing  her,  finding  again  the 
familiar  curves  of  her  light  body,  noting  the  thin 
ness  of  the  lifted  arm  that  upheld  the  little  boy, 


320      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  droop  of  the  shoulder  he  weighed  on,  the 
brooding  way  in  which  her  cheek  leaned  to  his 
even  while  she  looked  away;  then  she  drew  back, 
the  door  closed,  and  the  street-lamp  again  shone 
on  blankness. 

"But  she's  mine!"  Nick  cried,  in  a  fierce  tri 
umph  of  recovery.  .  .  . 

His  eyes  were  so  full  of  her  that  he  shut  them 
to  hold  in  the  crowding  vision. 

It  remained  with  him,  at  first,  as  a  complete 
picture;  then  gradually  it  broke  up  into  its  com 
ponent  parts,  the  child  vanished,  the  strange 
house  vanished,  and  Susy  alone  stood  before  him, 
his  own  Susy,  only  his  Susy,  yet  changed,  worn, 
tempered — older,  even — with  sharper  shadows 
under  the  cheek-bones,  the  brows  drawn,  the  joint 
of  the  slim  wrist  more  prominent.  It  was  not 
thus  that  his  memory  had  evoked  her,  and  he  re 
called,  with  a  remorseful  pang,  the  fact  that  some 
thing  in  her  look,  her  dress,  her  tired  and  droop 
ing  attitude,  suggested  poverty,  dependence, 
seemed  to  make  her  after  all  a  part  of  the  shabby 
house  in  which,  at  first  sight,  her  presence  had 
seemed  so  incongruous. 

"But  she  looks  poor!"  he  thought,  his  heart 
tightening.  And  instantly  it  occurred  to  him  that 
these  must  be  the  Fulmer  children  whom  she  was 
living  with  while  their  parents  travelled  in  Italy. 
Eumours  of  Nat  Fulmer 's  sudden  ascension  had 
reached  him,  and  he  had  heard  that  the  couple  had 
lately  been  seen  in  Naples  and  Palermo.  No  one 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      321 

had  mentioned  Susy's  name  in  connection  with 
them,  and  he  could  hardly  tell  why  he  had  arrived 
at  this  conclusion,  except  perhaps  because  it 
seemed  natural  that,  if  Susy  were  in  trouble,  she 
should  turn  to  her  old  friend  Grace. 

But  why  in  trouble?  What  trouble?  What 
could  have  happened  to  check  her  triumphant 
career? 

"That's  what  I  mean  to  find  out!"  he  ex 
claimed. 

His  heart  was  beating  with  a  tumult  of  new 
hopes  and  old  memories.  The  sight  of  his  wife, 
so  remote  in  mien  and  manner  from  the  world  in 
which  he  had  imagined  her  to  be  re-absorbed, 
changed  in  a  flash  his  own  relation  to  life,  and 
flung  a  mist  of  unreality  over  all  that  he  had  been 
trying  to  think  most  solid  and  tangible.  Noth 
ing  now  was  substantial  to  him  but  the  stones  of 
the  street  in  which  he  stood,  the  front  of  the  house 
which  hid  her,  the  bell-handle  he  already  felt  in 
his  grasp.  He  started  forward,  and  was  halfway 
to  the  threshold  when  a  private  motor  turned  the 
corner,  the  twin  glitter  of  its  lamps  carpeting  the 
wet  street  with  gold  to  Susy's  door. 

Lansing  drew  back  into  the  shadow  as  the  motor 
swept  up  to  the  house.  A  man  jumped  out,  and 
the  light  fell  on  Strefford's  shambling  figure,  its 
lazy  disjointed  movements  so  unmistakably  the 
same  under  his  fur  coat,  and  in  the  new  setting 
of  prosperity. 

Lansing  stood  motionless,  staring  at  the  door. 


322      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

Strefford  rang,  and  waited.  Would  Susy  appear 
again?  Perhaps  she  had  done  so  before  only  be 
cause  she  had  been  on  the  watch.  .  .  . 

But  no:  after  a  slight  delay  a  bonne  appeared 
— the  breathless  maid-of-all-work  of  a  busy  house 
hold — and  at  once  effaced  herself,  letting  the  visi 
tor  in.  Lansing  was  sure  that  not  a  word  passed 
between  the  two,  of  enquiry  on  Lord  Altringham's 
part,  or  of  acquiescence  on  the  servant's.  There 
could  be  no  doubt  that  he  was  expected. 

The  door  closed  on  him,  and  a  light  appeared 
behind  the  blind  of  the  adjoining  window.  The 
maid  had  shown  the  visitor  into  the  sitting-room 
and  lit  the  lamp.  Upstairs,  meanwhile,  Susy  was 
no  doubt  running  skilful  fingers  through  her 
tumbled  hair  and  daubing  her  pale  lips  with  red. 
Ah,  how  Lansing  knew  every  movement  of  that 
familiar  rite,  even  to  the  pucker  of  the  brow  and 
the  pouting  thrust-out  of  the  lower  lip!  He  was 
seized  with  a  sense  of  physical  sickness  as  the 
succession  of  remembered  gestures  pressed  upon 
his  eyes.  .  .  .  And  the  other  man?  The  other 
man,  inside  the  house,  was  perhaps  at  that  very 
instant  smiling  over  the  remembrance  of  the  same 
scene ! 

At  the  thought,  Lansing  plunged  away  into  the 
night. 


XXVII 

SUSY  and  Lord  Altringham  sat  in  the  little 
drawing-room,  divided  from  each  other  by 
a  table  carrying  a  smoky  lamp  and  heaped  with 
tattered  school-books. 

In  another  half  hour  the  bonne,  despatched  to 
fetch  the  children  from  their  classes,  would  be 
back  with  her  flock;  and  at  any  moment  Geordie's 
imperious  cries  might  summon  his  slave  up  to  the 
nursery.  In  the  scant  time  allotted  them,  the  two 
sat,  and  visibly  wondered  what  to  say. 

Strefford,  on  entering,  had  glanced  about  the 
dreary  room,  with  its  piano  laden  with  tattered 
music,  the  children's  toys  littering  the  lame  sofa, 
the  bunches  of  dyed  grass  and  impaled  butterflies 
flanking  the  cast-bronze  clock.  Then  he  had 
turned  to  Susy  and  asked  simply : '  '  Why  on  earth 
are  you  here!" 

She  had  not  tried  to  explain ;  from  the  first,  she 
had  understood  the  impossibility  of  doing  so. 
And  she  would  not  betray  her  secret  longing  to 
return  to  Nick,  now  that  she  knew  that  Nick  had 
taken  definite  steps  for  his  release.  In  dread  lest 
Strefford  should  have  heard  of  this,  and  should 
announce  it  to  her,  coupling  it  with  the  news  of 
Nick's  projected  marriage,  and  lest,  hearing  her 

323 


324      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

fears  thus  substantiated,  she  should  lose  her  self- 
control,  she  had  preferred  to  say,  in  a  voice  that 
she  tried  to  make  indifferent :  "The  'proceedings,' 
or  whatever  the  lawyers  call  them,  have  begun. 
While  they're  going  on  I  like  to  stay  quite  by 
myself.  ...  I  don't  know  why.  ..." 

Strefford,  at  that,  had  looked  at  her  keenly 
"Ah,"  he  murmured;  and  his  lips  were  twisted 
into  their  old  mocking  smile.  "Speaking  of  pro 
ceedings,"  he  went  on  carelessly,  "what  stage 
have  Ellie 's  reached,  I  wonder?  I  saw  her  and 
Vanderlyn  and  Bockheimer  all  lunching  cheer 
fully  together  to-day  at  Larue's." 

The  blood  rushed  to  Susy's  forehead.  She  re 
membered  her  tragic  evening  with  Nelson  Van 
derlyn,  only  two  months  earlier,  and  thought  to 
herself:  "In  time,  then,  I  suppose,  Nick  and 
I.  .  .  ." 

Aloud  she  said:  "I  can't  imagine  how  Nelson 
and  Ellie  can  ever  want  to  see  each  other  again. 
And  in  a  restaurant,  of  all  places ! ' ' 

Strefford  continued  to  smile.  "My  dear,  you're 
incorrigibly  old-fashioned.  Why  should  two 
people  who've  done  each  other  the  best  turn  they 
could  by  getting  out  of  each  other's  way  at  the 
right  moment  behave  like  sworn  enemies  ever 
afterward?  It's  too  absurd;  the  humbug's  too 
flagrant.  Whatever  our  generation  has  failed  to 
do,  it's  got  rid  of  humbug;  and  that's  enough  to 
immortalize  it.  I  daresay  Nelson  and  Ellie  never 
liked  each  other  better  than  they  do  to-day. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      325 

Twenty  years  ago,  they'd  have  been  afraid  to  con 
fess  it;  but  why  shouldn't  they  now?" 

Susy  looked  at  Strefford,  conscious  that  under 
his  words  was  the  ache  of  the  disappointment  she 
had  caused  him;  and  yet  conscious  also  that  that 
very  ache  was  not  the  overwhelming  penetrating 
emotion  he  perhaps  wished  it  to  be,  but  a  pang 
on  a  par  with  a  dozen  others ;  and  that  even  while 
he  felt  it  he  foresaw  the  day  when  he  should  cease 
to  feel  it.  And  she  thought  to  herself  that  this 
certainty  of  oblivion  must  be  bitterer  than  any 
certainty  of  pain. 

A  silence  had  fallen  between  them.  He  broke 
it  by  rising  from  his  seat,  and  saying  with  a 
shrug:  "You'll  end  by  driving  me  to  marry  Joan 
Senechal. ' ' 

Susy  smiled.    "Well,  why  not?    She's  lovely." 

"Yes;  but  she'll  bore  me." 

"Poor  Streff!    So  sho'uld  I—" 

"Perhaps.  But  nothing  like  as  soon — "  He 
grinned  sardonically.  "  There 'd  be  more  mar 
gin."  He  appeared  to  wait  for  her  to  speak. 
"And  what  else  on  earth  are  you  going  to  do?" 
he  concluded,  as  she  still  remained  silent. 

"Oh,  Streff,  I  couldn't  marry  you  for  a  reason 
like  that!"  she  murmured  at  length. 

"Then  marry  me,  and  find  your  reason  after 
ward." 

Her  lips  made  a  movement  of  denial,  and  still 
in  silence  she  held  out  her  hand  for  good-bye.  He 
clasped  it,  and  then  turned  away;  but  on  the 


326      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

threshold  he  paused,  his  screwed-up  eyes  fixed  on 
her  wistfully. 

The  look  moved  her,  and  she  added  hurriedly : 
"The  only  reason  I  can  find  is  one  for  not  marry 
ing  you.  It's  because  I  can't  yet  feel  unmarried 
enough. ' ' 

"Unmarried  enough?  But  I  thought  Nick  was 
doing  his  best  to  make  you  feel  that." 

"Yes.  But  even  when  he  has — sometimes  I 
think  even  that  won't  make  any  difference." 

He  still  scrutinized  her  hesitatingly,  with  the 
gravest  eyes  she  had  ever  seen  in  his  careless 
face. 

"My  dear,  that's  rather  the  way  I  feel  about 
you,"  he  said  simply  as  he  turned  to  go. 

That  evening  after  the  children  had  gone  to 
bed  Susy  sat  up  late  in  the  cheerless  sitting-room. 
She  was  not  thinking  of  Strefford  but  of  Nick. 
He  was  coming  to  Paris — perhaps  he  had  already 
arrived.  The  idea  that  he  might  be  in  the  same 
place  with  her  at  that  very  moment,  and  without 
her  knowing  it,  was  so  strange  and  painful  that 
she  felt  a  violent  revolt  of  all  her  strong  and  joy- 
loving  youth.  Why  should  she  go  on  suffering 
so  unbearably,  so  abjectly,  so  miserably?  If  only 
she  could  see  him,  hear  his  voice,  even  hear  him 
say  again  such  cruel  and  humiliating  words  as 
he  had  spoken  on  that  dreadful  day  in  Venice — - 
even  that  would  be  better  than  this  blankness,  this 
utter  and  final  exclusion  from  his  life!  He  had 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      327 

been  cruel  to  her,  unimaginably  cruel:  hard,  ar 
rogant,  unjust;  and  had  been  so,  perhaps,  delib 
erately,  because  he  already  wanted  to  be  free. 
But  she  was  ready  to  face  even  that  possibility,  to 
humble  herself  still  farther  than  he  had  humbled 
her — she  was  ready  to  do  anything,  if  only  she 
might  see  him  once  again. 

She  leaned  her  aching  head  on  her  hands  and 
pondered.  Do  anything?  But  what  could  she 
do  ?  Nothing  that  should  hurt  him,  interfere  with 
his  liberty,  be  false  to  the  spirit  of  their  pact: 
on  that  she  was  more  than  ever  resolved.  She 
had  made  a  bargain,  and  she  meant  to  stick  to 
it,  not  for  any  abstract  reason,  but  simply  be 
cause  she  happened  to  love  him  in  that  way.  Yes 
— but  to  see  him  again,  only  once ! 

Suddenly  she  remembered  what  Strefford  had 
said  about  Nelson  Vanderlyn  and  his  wife.  "Why 
should  two  people  who've  just  done  each  other 
the  best  turn  they  could  behave  like  sworn  ene 
mies  ever  after?"  If  in  offering  Nick  his  freedom 
she  had  indeed  done  him  such  a  service  as  that, 
perhaps  he  no  longer  hated  her,  would  no  longer 
be  unwilling  to  see  her.  ...  At  any  rate,  why 
should  she  not  write  to  him  on  that  assumption, 
write  in  a  spirit  of  simple  friendliness,  suggesting 
that  they  should  meet  and  "settle  things"?  The 
business-like  word  "settle"  (how  she  hated  it) 
would  prove  to  him  that  she  had  no  secret  designs 
upon  his  liberty ;  and  besides  he  was  too  unpreju 
diced,  too  modern,  too  free  from  what  Strefford 


328      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

called  humbug,  not  to  understand  and  accept  such 
a  suggestion.  After  all,  perhaps  Strefford  was 
right;  it  was  something  to  have  rid  human  rela 
tions  of  hypocrisy,  even  if,  in  the  process,  so  many 
exquisite  things  seemed  somehow  to  have  been 
torn  away  with  it.  ... 

She  ran  up  to  her  room,  scribbled  a  note,  and 
hurried  with  it  through  the  rain  and  darkness  to 
the  post-box  at  the  corner.  As  she  returned 
through  the  empty  street  she  had  an  odd  feeling 
that  it  was  not  empty — that  perhaps  Nick  was 
already  there,  somewhere  near  her  in  the  night, 
about  to  follow  her  to  the  door,  enter  the  house, 
go  up  with  her  to  her  bedroom  in  the  old  way.  It 
was  strange  how  close  he  had  been  brought  by  the 
mere  fact  of  her  having  written  that  little  note  to 
him! 

In  the  bedroom,  Geordie  lay  in  his  crib  in  ruddy 
slumber,  and  she  blew  out  the  candle  and  un 
dressed  softly  for  fear  of  waMng  him. 

Nick  Lansing,  the  next  day,  received  Susy's 
letter,  transmitted  to  his  hotel  from  the  lawyer's 
office. 

He  read  it  carefully,  two  or  three  times  over, 
weighing  and  scrutinizing  the  guarded  words. 
She  proposed  that  they  should  meet  to  il  settle 
things."  What  things?  And  why  should  he 
accede  to  such  a  request?  What  secret  purpose 
had  prompted  her?  It  was  horrible  that  nowa 
days,  in  thinking  of  Susy,  he  should  always  sus- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      329 

pect  ulterior  motives,  be  meanly  on  the  watch  for 
some  hidden  tortuousness.  What  on  earth  was 
she  trying  to  " manage'*  now,  he  wondered? 

A  few  hours  ago,  at  the  sight  of  her,  all  his 
hardness  had  melted,  and  he  had  charged  himself 
with  cruelty,  with  injustice,  with  every  sin  of 
pride  against  himself  and  her ;  but  the  appearance 
of  Strefford,  arriving  at  that  late  hour,  and  so 
evidently  expected  and  welcomed,  had  driven  back 
the  rising  tide  of  tenderness. 

Yet,  after  all,  what  was  there  to  wonder  at? 
Nothing  was  changed  in  their  respective  situa 
tions.  He  had  left  his  wife,  deliberately,  and  for 
reasons  which  no  subsequent  experience  had 
caused  him  to  modify.  She  had  apparently  ac 
quiesced  in  his  decision,  and  had  utilized  it,  as  she 
was  justified  in  doing,  to  assure  her  own  future. 

In  all  this,  what  was  there  to  wail  or  knock  the 
breast  between  two  people  who  prided  themselves 
on  looking  facts  in  the  face,  and  making  their 
grim  best  of  them,  without  vain  repinings?  He 
had  been  right  in  thinking  their  marriage  an  act 
of  madness.  Her  charms  had  overruled  his  judg 
ment,  and  they  had  had  their  year  .  .  .  their  mad 
year  ...  or  at  least  all  but  two  or  three  months 
of  it.  But  his  first  intuition  had  been  right ;  and 
now  they  must  both  pay  for  their  madness.  The 
Fates  seldom  forget  the  bargains  made  with  them, 
or  fail  to  ask  for  compound  interest.  Why  not, 
then,  now  that  the  time  had  come,  pay  up  gal- 


330      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

lantly,  and  remember  of  the  episode  only  what 
had  made  it  seem  so  supremely  worth  the  cost? 

He  sent  a  pneumatic  telegram  to  Mrs.  Nicholas 
Lansing  to  say  that  he  would  call  on  her  that 
afternoon  at  four.  "That  ought  to  give  us  time," 
he  reflected  drily,  "to  'settle  things/  as  she  calls 
it,  without  interfering  with  Strefford's  afternoon 
visit." 


XXVIII 

HER  husband's  note  had  briefly  said: 
"To-day  at  four  o'clock.    N.  L." 

All  day  she  pored  over  the  words  in  an  agony 
of  longing,  trying  to  read  into  them  regret,  emo 
tion,  memories,  some  echo  of  the  tumult  in  her 
own  bosom.  But  she  had  signed  "Susy,"  and  he 
signed  "N.  L."  That  seemed  to  put  an  abyss  be 
tween  them.  After  all,  she  was  free  and  he  was 
not.  Perhaps,  in  view  of  his  situation,  she  had 
only  increased  the  distance  between  them  by  her 
unconventional  request  for  a  meeting. 

She  sat  in  the  little  drawing-room,  and  the  cast- 
bronze  clock  ticked  out  the  minutes.  She  would 
not  look  out  of  the  window:  it  might  bring  bad 
luck  to  watch  for  him.  And  it  seemed  to  her  that 
a  thousand  invisible  spirits,  hidden  demons  of 
good  and  evil,  pressed  about  her,  spying  out  her 
thoughts,  counting  her  heart-beats,  ready  to 
pounce  upon  the  least  symptom  of  over-confidence 
and  turn  it  deftly  to  derision.  Oh,  for  an  altar 
on  which  to  pour  out  propitiatory  offerings !  But 
what  sweeter  could  they  have  than  her  smothered 
heart-beats,  her  choked-back  tears? 

The  bell  rang,  and  she  stood  up  as  if  a  spring 
had  jerked  her  to  her  feet.  In  the  mirror  between 

331 


332      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

the  dried  grasses  her  face  looked  long  pale  in 
animate.  Ah,  if  he  should  find  her  too  changed — ! 
If  there  were  but  time  to  dash  upstairs  and  put 
on  a  touch  of  red.  .  .  . 

The  door  opened ;  it  shut  on  him ;  he  was  there. 

He  said :    i  l  You  wanted  to  see  me — ' ' 

She  answered:  "Yes."  And  her  heart  seemed 
to  stop  beating. 

At  first  she  could  not  make  out  what  mysterious 
change  had  come  over  him,  and  why  it  was  that 
in  looking  at  him  she  seemed  to  be  looking  at  a 
stranger;  then  she  perceived  that  his  voice 
sounded  as  it  used  to  sound  when  he  was  talking 
to  other  people;  and  she  said  to  herself,  with  a 
sick  shiver  of  understanding,  that  she  had  become 
an  " other  person"  to  him. 

There  was  a  deathly  pause;  then  she  faltered 
out,  not  knowing  what  she  said:  "Nick — you'll 
sit  down?" 

He  said:  "Thanks,"  but  did  not  seem  to  have 
heard  her,  for  he  continued  to  stand  motionless, 
half  the  room  between  them.  And  slowly  the  use- 
lessness,  the  hopelessness  of  his  being  there  over 
came  her.  A  wall  of  granite  seemed  to  have  built 
itself  up  between  them.  She  felt  as  if  it  hid  her 
from  him,  as  if  with  those  remote  new  eyes  of 
his  he  were  staring  into  the  wall  and  not  at  her. 
Suddenly  she  said  to  herself:  "He's  suffering 
more  than  I  am,  because  he  pities  me,  and  is 
afraid  to  tell  me  that  he  is  going  to  be  married. ' ' 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      333 

The  thought  stung  her  pride,  and  she  lifted  her 
head  and  met  his  eyes  with  a  smile. 

" Don't  you  think,"  she  said,  "it's  more  sen 
sible — with  everything  so  changed  in  our  lives — 
that  we  should  meet  as  friends,  in  this  way?  I 
wanted  to  tell  you  that  you  needn't  feel — feel  in 
the  least  unhappy  about  me. ' ' 

A  deep  flush  rose  to  his  forehead.  "Oh,  I  know 
— I  know  that — "  he  declared  hastily;  and  added, 
with  a  factitious  animation:  "But  thank  you  for 
telling  me." 

"There's  nothing,  is  there,"  she  continued,  "to 
make  our  meeting  in  this  way  in  the  least  embar 
rassing  or  painful  to  either  of  us,  when  both  have 
found.  ..."  She  broke  off,  and  held  her  hand 
out  to  him.  "I've  heard  about  you  and  Coral," 
she  ended. 

He  just  touched  her  hand  with  cold  fingers,  and 
let  it  drop.  "Thank  you,"  he  said  for  the  third 
time. 

"You  won't  sit  downf " 

He  sat  down. 

"Don't  you  think,"  she  continued,  "that  the 
new  way  of  ...  of  meeting  as  friends  .  .  .  and 
talking  things  over  without  ill-will  ...  is  much 
pleasanter  and  more  sensible,  after  all!" 

He  smiled.  "It's  immensely  kind  of  you — to 
feel  that." 

"Oh,  I  do  feel  it!"  She  stopped  short,  and 
wondered  what  on  earth  she  had  meant  to  say 


334      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

next,  and  why  she  had  so  abruptly  lost  the  thread 
of  her  discourse. 

In  the  pause  she  heard  him  cough  slightly  and 
clear  his  throat.  "Let  me  say,  then,"  he  began, 
"that  I'm  glad  too — immensely  glad  that  your 
own  future  is  so  satisfactorily  settled." 

She  lifted  her  glance  again  to  his  walled  face, 
in  which  not  a  muscle  stirred. 

"Yes:  it — it  makes  everything  easier  for  you, 
doesn't  it?" 

"For  you  too,  I  hope."  He  paused,  and  then 
went  on:  "I  want  also  to  tell  you  that  I  perfectly 
understand — " 

"Oh,"  she  interrupted,  "so  do  I;  your  point  of 
view,  I  mean. ' ' 

They  were  again  silent. 

"Nick,  why  can't  we  be  friends — real  friends? 
Won't  it  be  easier?"  she  broke  out  at  last  with 
twitching  lips. 

"Easier—?" 

"I  mean,  about  talking  things  over — arrange 
ments.  There  are  arrangements  to  be  made,  I 
suppose?" 

"I  suppose  so."  He  hesitated.  "I'm  doing 
what  I'm  told — simply  following  out  instructions. 
The  business  is  easy  enough,  apparently.  I'm 
taking  the  necessary  steps — " 

She  reddened  a  little,  and  drew  a  gasping 
breath.  "The  necessary  steps:  what  are  they? 
Everything  the  lawyers  tell  one  is  so  confusing. 
...  I  don't  yet  understand — how  it's  done." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      335 

"My  share,  you  mean?  Oh,  it's  very  simple." 
He  paused,  and  added  in  a  tone  of  laboured  ease : 
"I'm  going  down  to  Fontainebleau  to-morrow- 
She  stared,  not  understanding.  "To  Fontaine 
bleau—?" 

Her  bewilderment  drew  from  him  his  first  frank 
smile.  "Well — I  chose  Fontainebleau — I  don't 
know  why  .  .  .  except  that  we've  never  been 
there  together. " 

At  that  she  suddenly  understood,  and  the  blood 
rushed  to  her  forehead.  She  stood  up  without 
knowing  what  she  was  doing,  her  heart  in  her 
throat.  "How  grotesque — how  utterly  disgust 
ing!" 

He  gave  a  slight  shrug.  "I  didn't  make  the 
laws.  ..." 

"But  isn't  it  too  stupid  and  degrading  that  such 
things  should  be  necessary  when  two  people  want 
to  part — f "  She  broke  off  again,  silenced  by  the 
echo  of  that  fatal  "want  to  part."  .  .  . 

He  seemed  to  prefer  not  to  dwell  farther  on 
the  legal  obligations  involved. 

"You  haven't  yet  told  me,"  he  suggested,  "how 
you  happen  to  be  living  here. ' ' 

"Here — with  the  Fulmer  children?"  She 
roused  herself,  trying  to  catch  his  easier  note. 
"Oh,  I've  simply  been  governessing  them  for  a 
few  weeks,  while  Nat  and  Grace  are  in  Sicily." 
She  did  not  say:  "It's  because  I've  parted  with 
Strefford."  Somehow  it  helped  her  wounded 


336      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

pride  a  little  to  keep  from  him  the  secret  of  her 
precarious  independence. 

He  looked  his  wonder.  "All  alone  with  that 
bewildered  bonne?  But  how  many  of  them  are 
there?  Five?  Good  Lord!"  He  contemplated 
the  clock  with  unseeing  eyes,  and  then  turned 
them  again  on  her  face. 

"I  should  have  thought  a  lot  of  children  would 
rather  get  on  your  nerves." 

"Oh,  not  these  children.  They're  so  good  to 
me." 

"Ah,  well,  I  suppose  it  won't  be  for  long." 

He  sent  his  eyes  again  about  the  room,  which 
his  absent-minded  gaze  seemed  to  reduce  to  its 
dismal  constituent  elements,  and  added,  with  an 
obvious  effort  at  small  talk :  "I  hear  the  Fulmers 
are  not  hitting  it  off  very  well  since  his  success. 
Is  it  true  that  he's  going  to  marry  Violet  Mel- 
rose?" 

The  blood  rose  to  Susy's  face.  "Oh,  never, 
never!  He  and  Grace  are  travelling  together 
now." 

"Oh,  I  didn't  know.  People  say  things.  ..." 
He  was  visibly  embarrassed  with  the  subject,  and 
sorry  that  he  had  broached  it. 

"Some  of  the  things  that  people  say  are  true. 
But  Grace  doesn't  mind.  She  says  she  and  Nat 
belong  to  each  other.  They  can't  help  it,  she 
thinks,  after  having  been  through  such  a  lot  to 
gether.  ' ' 

"Dear  old  Grace!" 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      337 

He  had  risen  from  his  chair,  and  this  time  she 
made  no  effort  to  detain  him.  He  seemed  to  have 
recovered  his  self -composure,  and  it  struck  her 
painfully,  humiliatingly  almost,  that  he  should 
have  spoken  in  that  light  way  of  the  expedition 
to  Fontainebleau  on  the  morrow.  .  .  .  Well,  men 
were  different,  she  supposed;  she  remembered 
having  felt  that  once  before  about  Nick. 

It  was  on  the  tip  of  her  tongue  to  cry  out :  "But 
wait — wait!  I'm  not  going  to  marry  Strefford 
after  all!" — but  to  do  so  would  seem  like  an  ap 
peal  to  his  compassion,  to  his  indulgence;  and 
that  was  not  what  she  wanted.  She  could  never 
forget  that  he  had  left  her  because  he  had  not 
been  able  to  forgive  her  for  "managing" — and 
not  for  the  world  would  she  have  him  think  that 
this  meeting  had  been  planned  for  such  a  purpose. 

"If  he  doesn't  see  that  I  am  different,  in  spite 
of  appearances  .  .  .  and  that  I  never  was  what 
he  said  I  was  that  day — if  in  all  these  months  it 
hasn't  come  over  him,  what's  the  use  of  trying 
to  make  him  see  it  now?"  she  mused.  And  then, 
her  thoughts  hurrying  on:  "Perhaps  he's  suf 
fering  too — I  believe  he  is  suffering — at  any  rate, 
he's  suffering  for  me,  if  not  for  himself.  But  if 
he's  pledged  to  Coral,  what  can  he  do?  What 
would  he  think  of  me  if  I  tried  to  make  him  break 
his  word  to  her?" 

There  he  stood — the  man  who  was  "going  to 
Fontainebleau  to-morrow";  who  called  it  "tak 
ing  the  necessary  steps!"  Who  could  smile  as 


338      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

he  made  the  careless  statement !  A  world  seemed 
to  divide  them  already :  it  was  as  if  their  parting 
were  already  over.  All  the  words,  cries,  argu 
ments  beating  loud  wings  in  her  dropped  back  into 
silence.  The  only  thought  left  was:  "How  much 
longer  does  he  mean  to  go  on  standing  there  1 ' ' 

He  may  have  read  the  question  in  her  face,  for 
turning  back  from  an  absorbed  contemplation  of 
the  window  curtains  he  said:  "There's  nothing 
else—?" 

"Nothing  else?'' 

"I  mean:  you  spoke  of  things  to  be  settled — " 

She  flushed,  suddenly  remembering  the  pretext 
she  had  used  to  summon  him. 

"Oh,"  she  faltered,  "I  didn't  know  ...  I 
thought  there  might  be.  .  .  .  But  the  lawyers,  I 
suppose.  ..." 

She  saw  the  relief  on  his  contracted  face.  '  *  Ex 
actly.  IVe  always  thought  it  was  best  to  leave 
it  to  them.  I  assure  you" — again  for  a  moment 
the  smile  strained  his  lips —  "I  shall  do  nothing 
to  interfere  with  a  quick  settlement. ' ' 

She  stood  motionless,  feeling  herself  turn  to 
stone.  He  appeared  already  a  long  way  off,  like 
a  figure  vanishing  down  a  remote  perspective. 

"Then — good-bye,"  she  heard  him  say  from  its 
farther  end. 

"Oh, — good-bye,"  she  faltered,  as  if  she  had 
not  had  the  word  ready,  and  was  relieved  to  have 
him  supply  it. 

He  stopped  again  on  the  threshold,  looked  back 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      339 

at  her,  began  to  speak.  "I've — "  he  said;  then 
he  repeated  " Good-bye,"  as  though  to  make  sure 
he  had  not  forgotten  to  say  it ;  and  the  door  closed 
on  him. 

It  was  over;  she  had  had  her  last  chance  and 
missed  it.  Now,  whatever  happened,  the  one  thing 
she  had  lived  and  longed  for  would  never  be.  He 
had  come,  and  she  had  let  him  go  again.  .  .  . 

How  had  it  come  about?  Would  she  ever  be 
able  to  explain  it  to  herself?  How  was  it  that 
she,  so  fertile  in  strategy,  so  practised  in  femi 
nine  arts,  had  stood  there  before  him,  helpless, 
inarticulate,  like  a  school-girl  a-choke  with  her 
first  love-longing?  If  he  was  gone,  and  gone  never 
to  return,  it  was  her  own  fault,  and  none  but  hers. 
What  had  she  done  to  move  him,  detain  him, 
make  his  heart  beat  and  his  head  swim  as  hers 
were  beating  and  swimming?  She  stood  aghast 
at  her  own  inadequacy,  her  stony  inexpressive- 
ness.  .  .  . 

And  suddenly  she  lifted  her  hands  to  her  throb 
bing  forehead  and  cried  out:  "But  this  is  love! 
This  must  be  love ! ' J 

She  had  loved  him  before,  she  supposed;  for 
what  else  was  she  to  call  the  impulse  that  had 
drawn  her  to  him,  taught  her  how  to  overcome  his 
scruples,  and  whirled  him  away  with  her  on  their 
mad  adventure?  Well,  if  that  was  love,  this  was 
something  so  much  larger  and  deeper  that  the 


340      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

other  feeling  seemed  the  mere  dancing  of  her 
blood  in  tune  with  his.  .  .  . 

But,  no!  Eeal  love,  great  love,  the  love  that 
poets  sang,  and  privileged  and  tortured  beings 
lived  and  died  of,  that  love  had  its  own  superior 
expressiveness,  and  the  sure  command  of  its 
means.  The  petty  arts  of  coquetry  were  no 
farther  from  it  than  the  numbness  of  the  untaught 
girl.  Great  love  was  wise,  strong,  powerful,  like 
genius,  like  any  other  dominant  form  of  human 
power.  It  knew  itself,  and  what  it  wanted,  and 
how  to  attain  its  ends. 

Not  great  love,  then  .  .  .  but  just  the  common 
humble  average  of  human  love  was  hers.  And  it 
had  come  to  her  so  newly,  so  overwhelmingly,  with 
a  face  so  grave,  a  touch  so  startling,  that  she  had 
stood  there  petrified,  humbled  at  the  first  look  of 
its  eyes,  recognizing  that  what  she  had  once  taken 
for  love  was  merely  pleasure  and  spring-time,  and 
the  flavour  of  youth. 

"But  how  was  I  to  know?  And  now  it's  too 
late!"  she  wailed. 


inhabitants  of  the  little  house  in  Passy 
were  of  necessity  early  risers ;  but  when  Susy 
jumped  out  of  bed  the  next  morning  no  one  else 
was  astir,  and  it  lacked  nearly  an  hour  of  the  call 
of  the  bonne's  alarm-clock. 

For  a  moment  Susy  leaned  out  of  her  dark 
room  into  the  darker  night.  A  cold  drizzle  fell  on 
her  face,  and  she  shivered  and  drew  back.  Then, 
lighting  a  candle,  and  shading  it,  as  her  habit  was, 
from  the  sleeping  child,  she  slipped  on  her  dress 
ing-gown  and  opened  the  door.  On  the  threshold 
she  paused  to  look  at  her  watch.  Only  half-past 
five !  She  thought  with  compunction  of  the  un- 
kindness  of  breaking  in  on  Junie  Fulmer's  slum 
bers  ;  but  such  scruples  did  not  weigh  an  ounce  in 
the  balance  of  her  purpose.  Poor  Junie  would 
have  to  oversleep  herself  on  Sunday,  that  was  all. 

Susy  stole  into  the  passage,  opened  a  door,  and 
cast  her  light  on  the  girl's  face. 

'  *  Junie !   Dearest  Junie,  you  must  wake  up ! " 

Junie  lay  in  the  abandonment  of  youthful  sleep ; 
but  at  the  sound  of  her  name  she  sat  up  with  the 
promptness  of  a  grown  person  on  whom  domestic 
burdens  have  long  weighed. 

"Which  one  of  them  is  it?"  she  asked,  one  foot 
already  out  of  bed. 

341 


342      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,  Junie  dear,  no  ...  it's  nothing  wrong 
with  the  children  ...  or  with  anybody,"  Susy 
stammered,  on  her  knees  by  the  bed. 

In  the  candlelight,  she  saw  Junie 's  anxious  brow 
darken  reproachfully. 

"Oh,  Susy,  then  why — ?  I  was  just  dreaming 
we  were  all  driving  about  Eome  in  a  great  big 
motor-car  with  father  and  mother!" 

"I'm  so  sorry,  dear.  What  a  lovely  dream! 
I'm  a  brute  to  have  interrupted  it — " 

She  felt  the  little  girl's  awakening  scrutiny.  "If 
there 's  nothing  wrong  with  anybody,  why  are  you 
crying,  Susy?  Is  it  you  there's  something  wrong 
with?  What  has  happened?" 

"Am  I  crying?"  Susy  rose  from  her  kness  and 
sat  down  on  the  counterpane.  "Yes,  it  is  me. 
And  I  had  to  disturb  you." 

"Oh,  Susy,  darling,  what  is  it?"  Junie 's  arms 
were  about  her  in  a  flash,  and  Susy  grasped  them 
in  burning  fingers. 

"Junie,  listen!  I've  got  to  go  away  at  once — 
to  leave  you  all  for  the  whole  day.  I  may  not  be 
back  till  late  this  evening;  late  to-night;  I  can't 
tell.  I  promised  your  mother  I'd  never  leave  you ; 
but  I've  got  to — I've  got  to." 

Junie  considered  her  agitated  face  with  fully 
awakened  eyes.  "Oh,  I  won't  tell,  you  know,  you 
old  brick, ' '  she  said  with  simplicity. 

Susy  hugged  her.  "Junie,  Junie,  you  darling  I 
But  that  wasn  't  what  I  meant.  Of  course  you  may 
tell — you  must  tell.  I  shall  write  to  your  mother 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      343 

myself.  But  what  worries  me  is  the  idea  of  hav 
ing  to  go  away — away  from  Paris — for  the  whole 
day,  with  Geordie  still  coughing  a  little,  and  no  one 
but  that  silly  Angele  to  stay  with  him  while  you  're 
out — and  no  one  but  you  to  take  yourself  and  the 
others  to  school.  But  Junie,  Junie,  I've  got  to  do 
it!"  she  sobbed  out,  clutching  the  child  tighter. 

Junie  Fulmer,  with  her  strangely  mature  per 
ception  of  the  case,  and  seemingly  of  every  case 
that  fate  might  call  on  her  to  deal  with,  sat  for  a 
moment  motionless  in  Susy's  hold.  Then  she  freed 
her  wrists  with  an  adroit  twist,  and  leaning  back 
against  the  pillows  said  judiciously:  "You'll 
never  in  the  world  bring  up  a  family  of  your  own 
if  you  take  on  like  this  over  other  people's  chil 
dren." 

Through  all  her  turmoil  of  spirit  the  observa 
tion  drew  a  laugh  from  Susy.  "Oh,  a  family  of 
my  own — I  don't  deserve  one,  the  way  I'm  behav 
ing  to  you!" 

Junie  still  considered  her.  "My  dear,  a  change 
will  do  you  good :  you  need  it, ' '  she  pronounced. 

Susy  rose  with  a  laughing  sigh.  "  I  'm  not  at  all 
sure  it  will !  But  I've  got  to  have  it,  all  the  same. 
Only  I  do  feel  anxious — and  I  can't  even  leave  you 
my  address!" 

Junie  still  seemed  to  examine  the  case. 

"Can't  you  even  tell  me  where  you're  going?" 
she  ventured,  as  if  not  quite  sure  of  the  delicacy 
of  asking. 

"Well — no,  I  don't  think  I  can;  not  till  I  get 


344      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

back.  Besides,  even  if  I  could  it  wouldn't  be 
much  use,  because  I  couldn't  give  you  my  address 
there.  I  don't  know  what  it  will  be. " 

"But  what  does  it  matter,  if  you're  coming  back 
to-night?" 

"Of  course  I'm  coming  back!  How  could  you 
possibly  imagine  I  should  think  of  leaving  you  for 
more  than  a  day?" 

"Oh,  I  shouldn't  be  afraid — not  much,  that  is, 
with  the  poker,  and  Nat's  water-pistol,"  emended 
Junie,  still  judicious. 

Susy  again  enfolded  her  vehemently,  and  then 
turned  to  more  practical  matters.  She  explained 
that  she  wished  if  possible  to  catch  an  eight-thirty 
train  from  the  Gare  de  Lyon,  and  that  there  was 
not  a  moment  to  lose  if  the  children  were  to  be 
dressed  and  fed,  and  full  instructions  written  out 
for  Junie  and  Angele,  before  she  rushed  for  the 
underground. 

While  she  bathed  Geordie,  and  then  hurried  into 
her  own  clothes,  she  could  not  help  wondering  at 
her  own  extreme  solicitude  for  her  charges.  She 
remembered,  with  a  pang,  how  often  she  had  de 
serted  Clarissa  Vanderlyn  for  the  whole  day,  and 
even  for  two  or  three  in  succession — poor  little 
Clarissa,  whom  she  knew  to  be  so  unprotected,  so 
exposed  to  evil  influences.  She  had  been  too  much 
absorbed  in  her  own  greedy  bliss  to  be  more  than 
intermittently  aware  of  the  child;  but  now,  she 
felt,  no  sorrow  however  ravaging,  no  happiness 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      345 

however  absorbing,  would  ever  again  isolate  her 
from  her  kind. 

And  then  these  children  were  so  different !  The 
exquisite  Clarissa  was  already  the  predestined 
victim  of  her  surroundings :  her  budding  soul  was 
divided  from  Susy's  by  the  same  barrier  of  in 
comprehension  that  separated  the  latter  from  Mrs. 
Vanderlyn.  Clarissa  had  nothing  to  teach  Susy 
but  the  horror  of  her  own  hard  little  appetites; 
whereas  the  company  of  the  noisy  argumentative 
Fulmers  had  been  a  school  of  wisdom  and  abnega 
tion. 

As  she  applied  the  brush  to  Geordie's  shining 
head  and  the  handkerchief  to  his  snuffling  nose, 
the  sense  of  what  she  owed  him  was  so  borne  in  on 
Susy  that  she  interrupted  the  process  to  catch  him 
to  her  bosom. 

"I'll  have  such  a  story  to  tell  you  when  I  get 
back  to-night,  if  you'll  promise  me  to  be  good  all 
day,"  she  bargained  with  him;  and  Geordie,  al 
ways  astute,  bargained  back:  "Before  I  promise, 
I'd  like  to  know  what  story." 

At  length  all  was  in  order.  Junie  had  been  en 
lightened,  and  Angele  stunned,  by  the  minuteness 
of  Susy's  instructions;  and  the  latter,  water 
proofed  and  stoutly  shod,  descended  the  doorstep, 
and  paused  to  wave  at  the  pyramid  of  heads  yearn 
ing  to  her  from  an  upper  window. 

It  was  hardly  light,  and  still  raining,  when  she 
turned  into  the  dismal  street.  As  usual,  it  was 
empty;  but  at  the  corner  she  perceived  a  hesitat- 


346      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

ing  taxi,  with  luggage  piled  beside  the  driver.  Per 
haps  it  was  some  early  traveller,  just  arriving, 
who  would  release  the  carriage  in  time  for  her  to 
catch  it,  and  thus  avoid  the  walk  to  the  metro,  and 
the  subsequent  strap-hanging ;  for  it  was  the  work 
people 's  hour.  Susy  raced  toward  the  vehicle, 
which,  overcoming  its  hesitation,  was  beginning  to 
move  in  her  direction.  Observing  this,  she  stopped 
to  see  where  it  would  discharge  its  load.  There 
upon  the  taxi  stopped  also,  and  the  load  dis 
charged  itself  in  front  of  her  in  the  shape  of  Nick 
Lansing. 

The  two  stood  staring  at  each  other  through  the 
rain  till  Nick  broke  out:  "Where  are  you  going? 
I  came  to  get  you. ' ' 

1  'To  get  me?  To  get  me?"  she  repeated.  Be 
side  the  driver  she  had  suddenly  remarked  the  old 
suit-case  from  which  her  husband  had  obliged  her 
to  extract  Strefford's  cigars  as  they  were  leaving 
Como;  and  everything  that  had  happened  since 
seemed  to  fall  away  and  vanish  in  the  pang  and 
rapture  of  that  memory. 

"To  get  you;  yes.  Of  course."  He  spoke  the 
words  peremptorily,  almost  as  if  they  were  an 
order.  "Where  were  you  going?"  he  repeated. 

Without  answering,  she  turned  toward  the 
house.  He  followed  her,  and  the  laden  taxi  closed 
the  procession. 

"Why  are  you  out  in  such  weather  without  an 
umbrella?"  he  continued,  in  the  same  severe  tone, 
drawing  her  under  the  shelter  of  his. 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      347 

"Oh,  because  Jimie's  umbrella  is  in  tatters,  and 
I  had  to  leave  her  mine,  as  I  was  going  away  for 
the  whole  day."  She  spoke  the  words  like  a  per 
son  in  a  trance. 

"For  the  whole  day?    At  this  hour?    Where? " 

They  were  on  the  doorstep,  and  she  fumbled 
automatically  for  her  key,  let  herself  in,  and  led 
the  way  to  the  sitting-room.  It  had  not  been  tidied 
up  since  the  night  before.  The  children's  school 
books  lay  scattered  on  the  table  and  sofa,  and  the 
empty  fireplace  was  grey  with  ashes.  She  turned 
to  Nick  in  the  pallid  light. 

"I  was  going  to  see  you,"  she  stammered,  "I 
was  going  to  follow  you  to  Fontainebleau,  if  neces 
sary,  to  tell  you  ...  to  prevent  you.  .  .  ." 

He  repeated  in  the  same  aggressive  tone:  "Tell 
me  what?  Prevent  what?" 

"Tell  you  that  there  must  be  some  other  way 
.  .  .  some  decent  way  ...  of  our  separating  .  .  . 
without  that  horror  .  .  .  that  horror  of  your 
going  off  with  a  woman.  ..." 

He  stared,  and  then  burst  into  a  laugh.  The 
blood  rushed  to  her  face.  She  had  caught  a  fa 
miliar  ring  in  his  laugh,  and  it  wounded  her.  What 
business  had  he,  at  such  a  time,  to  laugh  in  the 
old  way? 

"I'm  sorry;  but  there  is  no  other  way,  I'm 
afraid.  No  other  way  but  one,"  he  corrected  him 
self. 

She  raised  her  head  sharply.    "Well?" 

"That   you    should  be   the   woman. — Oh,   my 


348      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

dear!"  He  had  dropped  his  mocking  smile,  and 
was  at  her  side,  her  hands  in  his.  ' '  Oh,  my  dear, 
don't  you  see  that  we've  both  been  feeling  the 
same  thing,  and  at  the  same  hour?  You  lay 
awake  thinking  of  it  all  night,  didn't  you?  So  did 
I.  Whenever  the  clock  struck,  I  said  to  myself: 
'She's  hearing  it  too.'  And  I  was  up  before  day 
light,  and  packed  my  traps — for  I  never  want  to 
set  foot  again  in  that  awful  hotel  where  I've  lived 
in  hell  for  the  last  three  days.  And  I  swore  to 
myself  that  I'd  go  off  with  a  woman  by  the  first 
train  I  could  catch — and  so  I  mean  to,  my  dear. ' ' 

She  stood  before  him  numb.  Yes,  numb:  that 
was  the  worst  of  it !  The  violence  of  the  reaction 
had  been  too  great,  and  she  could  hardly  under 
stand  what  he  was  saying.  Instead,  she  noticed 
that  the  tassel  of  the  window-blind  was  torn  off 
again  (oh,  those  children!),  and  vaguely  wondered 
if  his  luggage  were  safe  on  the  waiting  taxi.  One 
heard  such  stories.  .  .  . 

His  voice  came  back  to  her.  '  *  Susy !  Listen ! ' ' 
he  was  entreating.  "You  must  see  yourself  that 
it  can't  be.  We're  married — isn't  that  all  that 
matters?  Oh,  I  know — I've  behaved  like  a  brute: 
a  cursed  arrogant  ass!  You  couldn't  wish  that 
ass  a  worse  kicking  than  I've  given  him!  But 
that's  not  the  point,  you  see.  The  point  is  that 
we're  married.  .  .  .  Married.  .  .  .  Doesn't  it 
mean  something  to  you,  something — inexorable? 
It  does  to  me.  I  didn't  dream  it  would — in  just 
that  way.  But  all  I  can  say  is  that  I  suppose  the 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      349 

people  who  don't  feel  it  aren't  really  married — 
and  they  'd  better  separate ;  much  better.  As  for 
us—" 

Through  her  tears  she  gasped  out:  "That's 
what  I  felt  .  .  .  that's  what  I  said  to  Streff.  .  .  ." 

He  was  upon  her  with  a  great  embrace.  "My 
darling !  My  darling !  You  have  told  him  ? ' ' 

"Yes,"  she  panted.  "That's  why  I'm  living 
here."  She  paused.  "And  you've  told  Coral?" 

She  felt  his  embrace  relax.  He  drew  away  a 
little,  still  holding  her,  but  with  lowered  head. 

"No  ...  I  ...  haven't." 

"Oh,  Nick!    Oh,  Nick!    But  then— ?" 

He  caught  her  to  him  again,  resentfully.  "Well 
— then  what?  What  do  you  mean?  What  earthly 
difference  does  it  make?" 

"But  if  you've  told  her  you  were  going  to  marry 
her — "  (Try  as  she  would,  her  voice  was  full  of 
silver  chimes.) 

"Marry  her?  Marry  her?"  he  echoed.  "But 
how  could  I?  What  does  marriage  mean  anyhow? 
If  it  means  anything  at  all  it  means — you!  And 
I  can't  ask  Coral  Hicks  just  to  come  and  live  with 
me,  can  I?" 

Between  crying  and  laughing  she  lay  on  his 
breast,  and  his  hand  passed  over  her  hair. 

They  were  silent  for  a  while;  then  he  began 
again:  "You  said  it  yourself  yesterday,  you 
know." 

She  strayed  back  from  sunlit  distances.  "Yes 
terday?" 


350      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Yes:  that  Grace  Fulmer  says  you  can't  sep 
arate  two  people  who've  been  through  a  lot  of 
things — " 

"Ah,  been  through  them  together — it's  not  the 
things,  you  see,  it's  the  togetherness,"  she  inter 
rupted. 

"The  togetherness — that's  it!"  He  seized  on 
the  word  as  if  it  had  just  been  coined  to  express 
their  case,  and  his  mind  could  rest  in  it  without 
farther  labour. 

The  door-bell  rang,  and  they  started.  Through 
the  window  they  saw  the  taxi-driver  gesticulating 
enquiries  as  to  the  fate  of  the  luggage. 

"He  wants  to  know  if  he's  to  leave  it  here," 
Susy  laughed. 

"No — no!  You're  to  come  with  me,"  her  hus 
band  declared. 

"Come  with  you?"  She  laughed  again  at  the 
absurdity  of  the  suggestion. 

"Of  course:  this  very  instant.  What  did  you 
suppose?  That  I  was  going  away  without  you? 
Run  up  and  pack  your  things, ' '  he  commanded. 

"My  things?  My  things?  But  I  can't  leave  the 
children!" 

He  stared,  between  indignation  and  amusement. 
"Can't  leave  the  children?  Nonsense !  Why,  you 
said  yourself  you  were  going  to  follow  me  to  Fon- 
tainebleau — " 

She  reddened  again,  this  time  a  little  painfully. 
"I  didn't  know  what  I  was  doing.  ...  I  had  to 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      351 

find  you  .  .  .  but  I  should  have  come  back  this 
evening,  no  matter  what  happened." 

"No  matter  what?" 

She  nodded,  and  met  his  gaze  resolutely. 

"No;  but  really— " 

"Really,  I  can't  leave  the  children  till  Nat  and 
Grace  come  back.  I  promised  I  wouldn't." 

"Yes;  but  you  didn't  know  then.  .  .  .  Why  on 
earth  can't  their  nurse  look  after  them?" 

"There  isn't  any  nurse  but  me." 

"Good  Lord!" 

"But  it's  only  for  two  weeks  more,"  she 
pleaded.  "Two  weeks!  Do  you  know  how  long 
I've  been  without  you?"  He  seized  her  by  both 
wrists,  and  drew  them  against  his  breast.  ' '  Come 
with  me  at  least  for  two  days — Sitsy!"  he  en 
treated  her. 

"Oh,"  she  cried,  "that's  the  very  first  time 
you've  said  my  name!" 

"Susy,  Susy,  then — my  Susy — Susy!  And 
you've  only  said  mine  once,  you  know." 

"Nick!"  she  sighed,  at  peace,  as  if  the  one  sylla 
ble  were  a  magic  seed  that  flung  out  great  branches 
to  envelop  them. 

"Well,  then,  Susy,  be  reasonable.    Come!" 

"Reasonable — oh,  reasonable!"  she  sobbed 
through  laughter. 

"Unreasonable,  then!    That's  even  better." 

She  freed  herself,  and  drew  back  gently.  "Nick, 
I  swore  I  wouldn't  leave  them;  and  I  can't.  It's 
not  only  my  promise  to  their  mother — it's  what 


they've  been  to  me  themselves.  You  don't  know 
.  .  .  You  can't  imagine  the  things  they've  taught 
me.  They're  awfully  naughty  at  times,  because 
they're  so  clever;  but  when  they're  good  they're 
the  wisest  people  I  know."  She  paused,  and  a 
sudden  inspiration  illuminated  her.  "But  why 
shouldn't  we  take  them  with  us?"  she  exclaimed. 

Her  husband's  arms  fell  away  from  her,  and  he 
stood  dumfounded. 

"Take  them  with  us?" 

"Why  not?" 

"All  five  of  them?" 

"Of  course — I  couldn't  possibly  separate  them. 
And  Junie  and  Nat  will  help  us  to  look  after  the 
young  ones." 

"Help  us?"  he  groaned. 

"Oh,  you'll  see;  they  won't  bother  you.  Just 
leave  it  to  me;  I'll  manage — "  The  word  stopped 
her  short,  and  an  agony  of  crimson  suffused  her 
from  brow  to  throat.  Their  eyes  met ;  and  without 
a  word  he  stooped  and  laid  his  lips  gently  on  the 
stain  of  red  on  her  neck. 

"Nick,"  she  breathed,  her  hands  in  his. 

"But  those  children—" 

Instead  of  answering,  she  questioned:  "Where 
are  we  going?" 

His  face  lit  up. 

"Anywhere,  dearest,  that  you  choose." 

"Well — I  choose  Fontainebleau ! "  she  exulted. 

"So  do  I!  But  we  can't  take  all  those  children 
to  an  hotel  at  Fontainebleau,  can  we?"  he  ques- 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      353 

tioned  weakly.  "You  see,  dear,  there's  the  mere 
expense  of  it — " 

Her  eyes  were  already  travelling  far  ahead  of 
him.  "The  expense  won't  amount  to  much.  I've 
just  remembered  that  Angele,  the  bonne,  has  a 
sister  who  is  cook  there  in  a  nice  old-fashioned 
pension  which  must  be  almost  empty  at  this  time 
of  year.  I'm  sure  I  can  ma — arrange  easily,"  she 
hurried  on,  nearly  tripping  again  over  the  fatal 
word.  "And  just  think  of  the  treat  it  will  be  to 
them !  This  is  Friday,  and  I  can  get  them  let  off 
from  their  afternoon  classes,  and  keep  them  in  the 
country  till  Monday.  Poor  darlings,  they  haven't 
been  out  of  Paris  for  months !  And  I  daresay  the 
change  will  cure  Geordie's  cough — Geordie's  the 
youngest,"  she  explained,  surprised  to  find  her 
self,  even  in  the  rapture  of  reunion,  so  absorbed 
in  the  welfare  of  the  Fulmers. 

She  was  conscious  that  her  husband  was  sur 
prised  also;  but  instead  of  prolonging  the  argu 
ment  he  simply  questioned:  "Was  Geordie  the 
chap  you  had  in  your  arms  when  you  opened  the 
front  door  the  night  before  last  ? ' ' 

She  echoed:  "I  opened  the  front  door  the  night 
before  last?" 

"To  a  boy  with  a  parcel." 

"Oh,"  she  sobbed,  "you  were  there f  You  were 
watching?" 

He  held  her  to  him,  and  the  currents  flowed  be 
tween  them  warm  and  full  as  on  the  night  of  their 
moon  over  Como. 


354      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

In  a  trice,  after  that,  she  had  the  matter  in  hand 
and  her  forces  marshalled.  The  taxi  was  paid, 
Nick's  luggage  deposited  in  the  vestibule,  and  the 
children,  just  piling  down  to  breakfast,  were  sum 
moned  in  to  hear  the  news. 

It  was  apparent  that,  seasoned  to  surprises  as 
they  were,  Nick's  presence  took  them  aback.  But 
when,  between  laughter  and  embraces,  his  identity, 
and  his  right  to  be  where  he  was,  had  been  made 
clear  to  them,  Junie  dismissed  the  matter  by  ask 
ing  him  in  her  practical  way : '  *  Then  I  suppose  we 
may  talk  about  you  to  Susy  now?" — and  there 
after  all  five  addressed  themselves  to  the  vision 
of  their  imminent  holiday. 

From  that  moment  the  little  house  became  the 
centre  of  a  whirlwind.  Treats  so  unforeseen,  and 
of  such  magnitude,  were  rare  in  the  young  Ful- 
mers '  experience,  and  had  it  not  been  for  Junie 's 
steadying  influence  Susy's  charges  would  have  got 
out  of  hand.  But  young  Nat,  appealed  to  by  Nick 
on  the  ground  of  their  common  manhood,  was  in 
duced  to  forego  celebrating  the  event  on  his  motor 
horn  (the  very  same  which  had  tortured  the  New 
Hampshire  echoes),  and  to  assert  his  authority 
over  his  juniors;  and  finally  a  plan  began  to 
emerge  from  the  chaos,  and  each  child  to  fit  into  it 
like  a  bit  of  a  picture  puzzle. 

Susy,  riding  the  whirlwind  with  her  usual  firm 
ness,  nevertheless  felt  an  undercurrent  of  anxiety. 
There  had  been  no  time  as  yet,  between  her  and 
Nick,  to  revert  to  money  matters ;  and  where  there 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      355 

was  so  little  money  it  could  not,  obviously,  much 
matter.  But  that  was  the  more  reason  for  being 
secretly  aghast  at  her  intrepid  resolve  not  to 
separate  herself  from  her  charges.  A  three  days ' 
honey-moon  with  five  children  in  the  party — and 
children  with  the  Fulmer  appetite — could  not  but 
be  a  costly  business ;  and  while  she  settled  details, 
packed  them  off  to  school,  and  routed  out  such 
nondescript  receptacles  as  the  house  contained 
in  the  way  of  luggage,  her  thoughts  remained  fixed 
on  the  familiar  financial  problem. 

Yes — it  was  cruel  to  have  it  rear  its  hated  head 
even  through  the  bursting  boughs  of  her  new 
spring ;  but  there  it  was,  the  perpetual  serpent  in 
her  Eden,  to  be  bribed,  fed,  sent  to  sleep  with 
such  scraps  as  she  could  beg,  borrow  or  steal  for 
it.  And  she  supposed  it  was  the  price  that  fate 
meant  her  to  pay  for  her  blessedness,  and  was 
surer  than  ever  that  the  blessedness  was  worth  it. 
Only,  how  was  she  to  compound  the  business  with 
her  new  principles  ? 

With  the  children's  things  to  pack,  luncheon  to 
be  got  ready,  and  the  Fontainebleau  pension  to  be 
telephoned  to,  there  was  little  time  to  waste  on 
moral  casuistry;  and  Susy  asked  herself  with  a 
certain  irony  if  the  chronic  lack  of  time  to  deal 
with  money  difficulties  had  not  been  the  chief 
cause  of  her  previous  lapses.  There  was  no  time 
to  deal  with  this  question  either ;  no  time,  in  short, 
to  do  anything  but  rush  forward  on  a  great  gale 
of  plans  and  preparations,  in  the  course  of  which 


356      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

she  whirled  Nick  forth  to  buy  some  cJiarcuterie  for 
luncheon,  and  telephone  to  Fontainebleau. 

Once  he  was  gone — and  after  watching  him 
safely  round  the  corner — she  too  got  into  her 
wraps,  and  transferring  a  small  packet  from  her 
dressing-case  to  her  pocket,  hastened  out  in  a  dif 
ferent  direction. 


IT  took  two  brimming  taxi-cabs  to  carry  the 
Nicholas  Lansings  to  the  station  on  their  sec 
ond  honey-moon.  In  the  first  were  Nick,  Susy  and 
the  luggage  of  the  whole  party  (little  Nat's  motor 
horn  included,  as  a  last  concession,  and  because  he 
had  hitherto  forborne  to  play  on  it) ;  and  in  the 
second,  the  five  Fulmers,  the  bonne,  who  at  the 
eleventh  hour  had  refused  to  be  left,  a  cage-full  of 
canaries,  and  a  foundling  kitten  who  had  murder 
ous  designs  on  them ;  all  of  which  had  to  be  taken 
because,  if  the  bonne  came,  there  would  be  nobody 
left  to  look  after  them. 

At  the  corner  Susy  tore  herself  from  Nick's 
arms  and  held  up  the  procession  while  she  ran 
back  to  the  second  taxi  to  make  sure  that  the 
bonne  had  brought  the  house-key.  It  was  found 
of  course  that  she  hadn't  but  that  Junie  had; 
whereupon  the  caravan  got  under  way  again,  and 
reached  the  station  just  as  the  train  was  starting ; 
and  there,  by  some  miracle  of  good  nature  on  the 
part  of  the  guard,  they  were  all  packed  together 
into  an  empty  compartment — no  doubt,  as  Susy 
remarked,  because  train  officials  never  failed  to 
spot  a  newly-married  couple,  and  treat  them 
kindly. 

357 


358      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

The  children,  sentinelled  by  Jimie,  at  first  gave 
promise  of  superhuman  goodness;  but  presently 
their  feelings  overflowed,  and  they  were  not  to  be 
quieted  till  it  had  been  agreed  that  Nat  should 
blow  his  motor-horn  at  each  halt,  while  the  twins 
called  out  the  names  of  the  stations,  and  Geordie, 
with  the  canaries  and  kitten,  affected  to  change 
trains. 

Luckily  the  halts  were  few;  but  the  excitement 
of  travel,  combined  with  over-indulgence  in  the 
chocolates  imprudently  provided  by  Nick,  over 
whelmed  Geordie  with  a  sudden  melancholy  that 
could  be  appeased  only  by  Susy's  telling  him 
stories  till  they  arrived  at  Fontainebleau. 

The  day  was  soft,  with  mild  gleams  of  sunlight 
on  decaying  foliage;  and  after  luggage  and  live 
stock  had  been  dropped  at  the  pension  Susy  con 
fessed  that  she  had  promised  the  children  a 
scamper  in  the  forest,  and  buns  in  a  tea-shop  af 
terward.  Nick  placidly  agreed,  and  darkness  had 
long  fallen,  and  a  great  many  buns  been  consumed, 
when  at  length  the  procession  turned  down  the 
street  toward  the  pension,  headed  by  Nick  with  the 
sleeping  Geordie  on  his  shoulder,  while  the  others, 
speechless  with  fatigue  and  food,  hung  heavily  on 
Susy. 

It  had  been  decided  that,  as  the  bonne  was  of 
the  party,  the  children  might  be  entrusted  to  her 
for  the  night,  and  Nick  and  Susy  establish  them 
selves  in  an  adjacent  hotel.  Nick  had  flattered 
himself  that  they  might  remove  their  possessions 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      359 

there  when  they  returned  from  the  tea-room ;  but 
Susy,  manifestly  surprised  at  the  idea,  reminded 
him  that  her  charges  must  first  be  given  their 
supper  and  put  to  bed.  She  suggested  that  he 
should  meanwhile  take  the  bags  to  the  hotel,  and 
promised  to  join  him  as  soon  as  Geordie  was 
asleep. 

She  was  a  long  time  coming,  but  waiting  for  her 
was  sweet,  even  in  a  deserted  hotel  reading-room 
insufficiently  heated  by  a  sulky  stove;  and  after 
he  had  glanced  through  his  morning's  mail,  hur 
riedly  thrust  into  his  pocket  as  he  left  Paris,  he 
sank  into  a  state  of  drowsy  beatitude.  It  was  all 
the  maddest  business  in  the  world,  yet  it  did  not 
give  him  the  sense  of  unreality  that  had  made 
their  first  adventure  a  mere  golden  dream ;  and  he 
sat  and  waited  with  the  security  of  one  in  wrhom 
dear  habits  have  struck  deep  roots.  In  this  mood 
of  acquiescence  even  the  presence  of  the  five  Ful- 
mers  seemed  a  natural  and  necessary  consequence 
of  all  the  rest ;  and  when  Susy  at  length  appeared, 
a  little  pale  and  tired,  with  the  brooding  inward 
look  that  busy  mothers  bring  from  the  nursery, 
that  too  seemed  natural  and  necessary,  and  part 
of  the  new  order  of  things. 

They  had  wandered  out  to  a  cheap  restaurant 
for  dinner ;  now,  in  the  damp  December  night,  they 
were  walking  back  to  the  hotel  under  a  sky  full  of 
rain-clouds.  They  seemed  to  have  said  everything 
to  each  other,  and  yet  barely  to  have  begun  what 


360      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

they  had  to  tell ;  and  at  each  step  they  took,  their 
heavy  feet  dragged  a  great  load  of  bliss. 

In  the  hotel  almost  all  the  lights  were  already 
out ;  and  they  groped  their  way  to  the  third  floor 
room  which  was  the  only  one  that  Susy  had  found 
cheap  enough.  A  ray  from  a  street-lamp  struck 
up  through  the  unshuttered  windows;  and  after 
Nick  had  revived  the  fire  they  drew  their  chairs 
close  to  it,  and  sat  quietly  for  a  while  in  the  dark. 

Their  silence  was  so  sweet  that  Nick  could  not 
make  up  his  mind  to  break  it;  not  to  do  so  gave 
his  tossing  spirit  such  a  sense  of  permanence,  of 
having  at  last  unlimited  time  before  him  in  which 
to  taste  his  joy  and  let  its  sweetness  stream 
through  him.  But  at  length  he  roused  himself  to 
say:  "It's  queer  how  things  coincide.  I've  had 
a  little  bit  of  good  news  in  one  of  the  letters  I  got 
this  morning." 

Susy  took  the  announcement  serenely.  "Well, 
you  would,  you  know,"  she  commented,  as  if  the 
day  had  been  too  obviously  designed  for  bliss  to 
escape  the  notice  of  its  dispensers. 

"Yes,"  he  continued  with  a  thrill  of  pardon 
able  pride.  "During  the  cruise  I  did  a  couple  of 
articles  on  Crete — oh,  just  travel-impressions,  of 
course;  they  couldn't  be  more.  But  the  editor  of 
the  New  Review  has  accepted  them,  and  asks  for 
others.  And  here's  his  cheque,  if  you  please!  So 
you  see  you  might  have  let  me  take  the  jolly  room 
downstairs  with  the  pink  curtains.  And  it  makes 
me  awfully  hopeful  about  my  book." 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      361 

He  had  expected  a  rapturous  outburst,  and  per 
haps  some  reassertion  of  wifely  faith  in  the  glori 
ous  future  that  awaited  The  Pageant  of  Alex 
ander;  and  deep  down  under  the  lover's  well-being 
the  author  felt  a  faint  twinge  of  mortified  vanity 
when  Susy,  leaping  to  her  feet,  cried  out,  raven 
ously  and  without  preamble :  *  *  Oh,  Nick,  Nick — let 
me  see  how  much  they  Ve  given  you ! ' ' 

He  flourished  the  cheque  before  her  in  the  fire 
light.  "A  couple  of  hundred,  you  mercenary 
wretch!" 

"Oh,  oh — "  she  gasped,  as  if  the  good  news  had 
been  almost  too  much  for  her  tense  nerves;  and 
then  surprised  him  by  dropping  to  the  ground, 
and  burying  her  face  against  his  knees. 

"Susy,  my  Susy,"  he  whispered,  his  hand  on 
her  shaking  shoulder.  "Why,  dear,  what  is  it? 
You're  not  crying?" 

"Oh,  Nick,  Nick — two  hundred?  Two  hundred 
dollars?  Then  I've  got  to  tell  you — oh  now,  at 
once ! ' ' 

A  faint  chill  ran  over  him,  and  involuntarily  his 
hand  drew  back  from  her  bowed  figure. 

"Now?  Oh,  why  now?"  he  protested.  "What 
on  earth  does  it  matter  now — whatever  it  is?" 

"But  it  does  matter — it  matters  more  than  you 
can  think!" 

She  straightened  herself,  still  kneeling  before 
him,  and  lifted  her  head  so  that  the  firelight  behind 
her  turned  her  hair  into  a  ruddy  halo. 


362      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

"Oh,  Nick,  the  bracelet — Ellie's  bracelet.  .  .  . 
I've  never  returned  it  to  her,"  she  faltered  out. 

He  felt  himself  recoiling  under  the  hands  with 
which  she  clutched  his  knees.  For  an  instant  he 
did  not  remember  what  she  alluded  to ;  it  was  the 
mere  mention  of  Ellie  Vanderlyn's  name  that  had 
fallen  between  them  like  an  icy  shadow.  What  an 
incorrigible  fool  he  had  been  to  think  they  could 
ever  shake  off  such  memories,  or  cease  to  be  the 
slaves  of  such  a  past ! 

"The  bracelet? — Oh,  yes,"  he  said,  suddenly 
understanding,  and  feeling  the  chill  mount  slowly 
to  his  lips. 

"Yes,  the  bracelet  .  .  .  Oh,  Nick,  I  meant  to 
give  it  back  at  once ;  I  did — I  did;  but  the  day  you 
went  away  I  forgot  everything  else.  And  when  I 
found  the  thing,  in  the  bottom  of  my  bag,  weeks 
afterward,  I  thought  everything  was  over  between 
you  and  me,  and  I  had  begun  to  see  Ellie  again, 
and  she  was  kind  to  me — and  how  could  If"  To 
save  his  life  he  could  have  found  no  answer,  and 
she  pressed  on:  "And  so  this  morning,  when  I 
saw  you  were  frightened  by  the  expense  of  bring 
ing  all  the  children  with  us,  and  when  I  felt  I 
couldn't  leave  them,  and  couldn't  leave  you  either, 
I  remembered  the  bracelet ;  and  I  sent  you  off  to 
telephone  while  I  rushed  round  the  corner  to  a 
little  jeweller's  where  I'd  been  before,  and  pawned 
it  so  that  you  shouldn't  have  to  pay  for  the  chil 
dren.  .  .  .  But  now,  darling,  you  see,  if  you've  got 


THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON      363 

all  that  money,  I  can  get  it  out  of  pawn  at  once, 
can't  I,  and  send  it  back  to  her?" 

She  flung  her  arms  about  him,  and  he  held  her 
fast,  wondering  if  the  tears  he  felt  were  hers  or 
his.  Still  he  did  not  speak ;  but  as  he  clasped  her 
close  she  added,  with  an  irrepressible  flash  of  her 
old  irony:  "Not  that  Ellie  will  understand  why 
I've  done  it.  She's  never  yet  been  able  to  make 
out  why  you  returned  her  scarf-pin." 

For  a  long  time  she  continued  to  lean  against 
him,  her  head  on  his  knees,  as  she  had  done  on  the 
terrace  of  Como  on  the  last  night  of  their  honey 
moon.  She  had  ceased  to  talk,  and  he  sat  silent 
also,  passing  his  hand  quietly  to  and  fro  over  her 
hair.  The  first  rapture  had  been  succeeded  by 
soberer  feelings.  Her  confession  had  broken  up 
the  frozen  pride  about  his  heart,  and  humbled  him 
to  the  earth;  but  it  had  also  roused  forgotten 
things,  memories  and  scruples  swept  aside  in  the 
first  rush  of  their  reunion.  He  and  she  belonged 
to  each  other  for  always :  he  understood  that  now. 
The  impulse  which  had  first  drawn  them  together 
again,  in  spite  of  reason,  in  spite  of  themselves 
almost,  that  deep-seated  instinctive  need  that  each 
had  of  the  other,  would  never  again  wholly  let 
them  go.  Yet  as  he  sat  there  he  thought  of  Stref- 
ford,  he  thought  of  Coral  Hicks.  He  had  been  a 
coward  in  regard  to  Coral,  and  Susy  had  been 
sincere  and  courageous  in  regard  to  Strefford.  Yet 
his  mind  dwelt  on  Coral  with  tenderness,  with 
compunction,  with  remorse;  and  he  was  almost 


364      THE  GLIMPSES  OF  THE  MOON 

sure  that  Susy  had  already  put  Strefford  utterly 
out  of  her  mind. 

It  was  the  old  contrast  between  the  two  ways 
of  ^ving,  the  man's  way  and  the  woman's;  and 
after  a  moment  it  seemed  to  Nick  natural  enough 
that  Susy,  from  the  very  moment  of  finding  him 
again,  should  feel  neither  pity  nor  regret,  and  that 
Strefford  should  already  be  to  her  as  if  he  had 
never  been.  After  all,  there  was  something  Provi 
dential  in  such  arrangements. 

He  stooped  closer,  pressed  her  dreaming  head 
between  his  hands,  and  whispered : '  *  Wake  up ;  it 's 
bedtime." 

She  rose;  but  as  she  moved  away  to  turn  on 
the  light  he  caught  her  hand  and  drew  her  to  the 
window.  They  leaned  on  the  sill  in  the  darkness, 
and  through  the  clouds,  from  which  a  few  drops 
were  already  falling,  the  moon,  labouring  upward, 
swam  into  a  space  of  sky,  cast  her  troubled  glory 
on  them,  and  was  again  hidden. 

0) 


THE  END 


EDITH  WHARTON'S 
THE   AGE  OF  INNOCENCE 


Awarded  the  $1,000  Pulitzer  Prize  by  Columbia  Uni 
versity  in  June,  1921,  as  "the  American  novel  pub 
lished  during  the  year  which  best  presented  the  whole 
some  atmosphere  of  American  life  and  the  highest 
standard  of  American  manners  and  manhood." 

"The  best  piece  of  fiction  of  the  present  season." — 
The  Outlook. 

"Edith  Wharton  is  a  writer  who  brings  glory  on  the 
name  of  America,  and  this  is  her  best  book.  A  con 
summate  work  of  art.  It  is  one  of  the  best  novels  of 
the  twentieth  century  and  looks  like  a  permanent  addi 
tion  to  literature." — William  Lyon  Phelps  in  the  New 
York  Times  Book  Review. 

"A  fine  novel,  beautifully  written,  'big*  in  the  best 
sense.  A  credit  to  American  literature." — Henry  Seidel 
Canby  in  the  New  York  Evening  Post. 

"Of  this  American  generation  Edith  Wharton  is  un 
questionably  the  novelist  foremost  in  intellectual  dis 
tinction." — The  Philadelphia  North  American. 

"A  work  of  surpassing  art." — The  Philadelphia  Public 
Ledger. 

"Edith  Wharton  has  proved  herself  again  a  superb 
novelist." — The  Chicago  Tribune. 

"  'The  Age  of  Innocence'  is  by  all  odds  the  great  novel 
of  the  year." — The  Christian  World. 

"Mrs.  Wharton  has  written  a  brilliant  novel.  Her 
picture  of  a  place  and  period  is  extraordinarily  fasci 
nating." — Heywood  Broun  in  the  New  York  Tribune. 

"Mrs.  Wharton  has  added  another  victory  to  her 
varied  triumphs  in  the  field  of  fiction." — The  Atlantic 
Monthly. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 


New  York 


London 


T  717 


BOOKS  BY  EDITH  WHARTON 


THE  AGE  OF  INNOCENCE 

Awarded  the  $1000  Pulitzer  Prize  by  Columbia  Uni 
versity  as  the  outstanding  American  novel  of  1921. 
"One  of  the  best  novels  of  the  twentieth  century." — 
William  Lyon  Phelps. 

SUMMER 

"The  Story  of  a  New  England  community  and  of  a 
girl's  life  there.  Mrs.  Wharton  has  analyzed  and  vivi 
fied  for  us,  with  that  sure  artist's  touch  that  we  know 
so  well,  a  bit  of  life." — New  York  Times. 

THE  REEF 

"Mrs.  Wharton  has  produced  one  of  her  most  adroit 
and  scintillant  dissections  of  the  human  relation.  She 
has  made  of  Anna  Leath  an  extraordinary  study  of 
awakening  impulses  in  a  woman." — McClure's  Maga 
zine. 

THE  MARNE 

"Within  its  pages  is  concentrated  much  if  not  the  whole 
of  the  meaning  of  the  Marne  both  to  France  and 
America.  Mrs.  Wharton  has  never  written  a  broader, 
keener  criticism  of  life  than  this."— New  York  Times. 


FRENCH  WAYS  AND  THEIR  MEANING 

An  extraordinarily  keen  study  of  the  French  people, 
for  which  the  salient  qualities  of  the  Gallic  spirit  form 
a  basis — taste,  reverence,  continuity,  intellectual  honesty. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
LONDON  NEW  YORK 


T708 


A  CHOICE  SHELF  OF  NOVELS 


ABBE  PIERRE 

By  JAY  WILLIAM  HUDSON 

This  charming  novel  of  life  in  quaint  Gascony  is 
proving  that  a  novel  that  is  a  work  of  truest  art  can 
be  a  best  seller  of  the  widest  popularity. 

WAY  OF  REVELATION 

By  WILFRID  EWART 

A  realistic  novel  of  the  great  war  which  presents  with 
startling  truth  and  accuracy  the  effect  of  the  conflict 
upon  a  group  of  intensely  interesting  characters. 

THE  MERCY  OF  ALLAH 

By   HILAIRE   BELLOC,   Author   of   "The   Path   to 

Rome,"  etc. 

A  brilliant  and  highly  entertaining  satire  on  modern 
business,  which  tells  of  how  Mahmoud,  by  the  Mercy 
of  Allah  and  his  own  keen  wits,  accumulated  a  vast 
fortune. 

THE  RICH  LITTLE  POOR  BOY 

By  ELEANOR  GATES,  Author  of  "The  Poor  Little 

Rich  Girl,"  etc. 

A  whimsical,  humorous  fantasy  of  a  poor  little  boy's 
search  for  happiness. 

MOTHER 

By  MAXIM  GORKY.     Introduction  by  Charles  Ed 
ward  Russell. 
Wide  interest  is  being  displayed  in  Gorky's  story  of 

Russia  before  the  Revolution. 


D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 

New  York  London 

T714 


AMONG  THE  NEWEST  NOVELS 


THE  HOUSE  OF  MOHUN 

By  GEORGE  GIBBS,  Author  of  "Youth  Triumphant," 

etc. 

A  distinguished  novel  depicting  present  day  society 
and  its  most  striking  feature,  the  "flapper."  A  story 
of  splendid  dramatic  qualities. 

THE  COVERED  WA£ON 

By  EMERSON  HOUGH,  Author  of  "The  Magnificent 
Adventure,"  ''The  Story  of  the  Cowboy,"  etc. 
A  novel  of  the  first  water,  clear  and  clean,  is  this 

thrilling  story  of  the  pioneers,  the  men  and  women  who 

laid  the  foundation  of  the  great  west. 

HOMESTEAD  RANCH 

By  ELIZABETH  G.  YOUNG 

The  New  York  Times  says  that  "Homestead  Ranch" 
is  one  of  the  season's  "two  best  real  wild  and  woolly 
western  yarns."  The  Boston  Herald  says,  "So  delight 
ful  that  we  recommend  it  as  one  of  the  best  western 
stories  of  the  year." 

SACRIFICE 

By    STEPHEN    FRENCH    WHITMAN,    Author   of 

"Predestined,"  etc. 

How  a  woman,  spoiled  child  of  New  York  society, 
faced  the  dangers  of  the  African  jungle  trail.  "One 
feels  ever  the  white  heat  of  emotional  conflict." — 
Philadelphia  Public  Ledger. 

DOUBLE-CROSSED 

By  W.  DOUGLAS  NEWTON,  Author  of  "Low  Ceil 
ings,"  etc. 

"An  excellently  written  and  handled  tale  of  adven 
ture  and  thrills  in  the  dark  spruce  valleys  of  Canada." 
— New  York  Times. 

JANE  JOURNEYS  ON 

By  RUTH  COMFORT  MITCHELL,  Author  of  "Play 

the  Game,"  etc. 

The  cheerful  story  of  a  delightful  heroine's  adven 
tures  from  Vermont  to  Mexico. 

D.  APPLETON  AND  COMPANY 
New  York  London 


T713 


JUN  1  6  1986 


DATE  DUE 

BF'U  JUN  U4  !987|     — 


GAYUORD 


UC  SOUTHERN  REGIONAL  LIBRARY  FACILITY 


A     000  881  261     2 


